Harry Potter and the Child of Shadows
by Louise-gaze
Summary: Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts begins with immediate change and new discoveries: The Dark Lord's right-hand man and has recruited a new, mysterious face who may be more than she claims to be. Harry's got his year cut out for him.
1. Summer

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.

Chapter 1: Summer

During the months when school was in session, and all of the children who resided near Pivet Drive were neglecting their books and homework for more important things like television and jump rope, the Dursley's, of number four Pivet Drive, were the most normal of people. Nothing out of the ordinary happened to them, certainly no funny business occurred that would ever distinguish their house from the ones sitting right next to it. And this is how Vernon Dursley, his wife Petunia, and their immense son Dudley preferred it. To the Dursley's, a life full of witches and wizards, house elf's, ghosts, and evil villains, was not one that respectable, normal, _sane_ people lived. For the Dursley's, being forced to live life amongst a person who associated with these types of people, would be a living hell, a fate that should not be wished upon one's worst enemy. Which would explain why, during the summer holidays, when school was out and the kids of Pivet Drive didn't have books or homework to worry about, Vernon Dursley would sometimes climb the stairs of his house mumbling, "What did I do? Why do I deserve this?" And then he would immediately quiet himself, just in case a passing neighbor had heard him through an open window. 

A teenager like Harry Potter was a nightmare for the Dursleys. Harry, after all, was a wizard. But he was not merely a normal wizard, Harry Potter was The Boy Who Lived. 

When Harry was less than one year old, the darkest of wizards, Lord Voldemort, was at the height of his power. The Dark Lord destroyed and killed; when someone got in his way or opposed him, they were marked for death instantly. And whenever Lord Voldemort wanted someone dead, there was no escaping it. That is, until one night, 15 years ago, when Voldemort entered the Potter home with intentions of ending the lives of James and Lily Potter, and most importantly, their baby son. On that night, something unexplainable happened. After killing both Lily and James, Voldemort turned to the baby, lifted his wand and spoke the death curse "Avada Kedavra," but the spell didn't work, in fact, it seemed to backfire. Harry survived the attack escaping with only a scar, while Voldemort was reduced to nothing more than a wisp of life. A one-year-old Harry Potter had defeated the evil Dark Lord, and had almost instantly become the hero of the wizarding world. 

However, Harry was not to know this for 10 more years, because the very night of the attack he was taken by a wise old wizard to his only living relative's house at number four Pivet Drive, where he would live in ignorance of the wizarding world, and who he truly was, until the day the first letter came.

Harry Potter lay on his bed remembering the first letter. It had been the most odd thing for Harry to receive a letter at Pivet Drive, a place where he had been stuffed in the cupboard under the stairs for so long that he was sure no one in the outside world knew he existed. He had been allowed to go to school, but even there he was bullied by Dudley who was easily twice his size, so school wasn't much of a release. Yes, Harry had been convinced that he would be stuck with the Dursleys in that awful and cramped cupboard for the rest of his life. And then, one afternoon Harry picked up the mail that had been thrown inside the house through the mail slot in the door to find that a letter had been addressed to him. And it was addressed in the most peculiar way too: 

_Harry Potter_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_Number four, Pivet Drive_

_Surrey, Little Whinging_

It was from a place called Hogwarts. Harry had been so surprised to receive the letter that he had forgotten that it might have been best to stash it in his "room" until he had privacy to read it alone. Instead, however, Harry had walked straight into the kitchen with it, staring at it absurdly. He hadn't even had a chance to open it before it was ripped out of his hands by Dudley, and then burned by Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. They did not want Harry seeing what was in the letter, but Hogwarts was not so easily avoided. 

Reliving the memory of the onslaught of owls that soon followed, Harry smiled. It was his first smile in weeks.

This summer had not been an easy one for him. While sitting in his room he often tried to remember the times when he would eagerly await going back to school That had been another thing that made Harry different: he enjoyed school. Harry attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the only wizarding school in Britain, and headed by arguably the most powerful good wizard alive, Albus Dumbledore. Harry had always trusted and respected Dumbledore, but because of recent events of the past year, he wasn't sure whether he still could. Dumbledore had let him down…

_Yes, _Harry reminded himself, _I'm not sure who I can trust anymore. _His two best friend's faces, who had been through his many adventures loyally by his side, passed through Harry's mind. Ron and Hermione. Harry cared about them more than he cared about anyone else in the world, he would do anything for them. Yet, right now, Harry didn't want to think about his friends. He didn't want to think at all.

Harry lay on his bed; his body sprawled out over his rumpled sheets. His gazed fixed upon the ceiling; his eyes unfocused. Harry spent most of his days like this, wasting away in his room. He only ever left to shower, use the bathroom, eat, and write an occasional letter to the people of the Order. He had promised Mr. Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody that he would keep in contact with them over the summer, writing them every three days at least. (If they didn't receive a letter within this amount of time, the two older wizards had promised to come to Pivet Drive, and see what was up, for themselves. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had panicked at the mere threat of such a disturbance.) Harry filled these letters with meaningless feelings of happiness and contentness, and false stories of how he was joyfully passing his summer. When replies to his letters came, Harry read them out of a lack of anything better to do, but rarely cared about the information contained within them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's letters were always reassuring, Moody's always warned of impending danger, Tonks told of happenings around Grimauld Place, and Ron and Hermione's letters were stuffed full of news regarding their own lives, and questions about Harry's. No one spoke of news of Voldemort. They were all happy Harry was having such a "wonderful" summer.

Harry wanted to shut the world out – the sunny days, and singing birds, and the cheers of children on the street below his window playing ball. Harry would never be a part of that world again, he would never see things the way those children could. He was blind to the bliss they enjoyed. Harry was changed, and he felt alone.

No one else could have understood his pain. No one else had lost their godfather. Sirius. Harry's only major link to his parent's past, the only one he could relate to. He and Sirius had shared the same pain – the loss of Lily and James. And now Sirius was gone, he was dead. 

Understandably, Sirius' death was the hardest thing for Harry to think about, but no matter how hard he tried to push it out of his head, he couldn't forget. There was an ever-present pit in Harry's stomach that served to remind Harry that Sirius' death was his fault. _It was so sudden, _Harry would think. _If only I had remembered the mirror, if I had just stopped to think, then maybe…maybe. _

Harry was changed.

Voldemort was back now. After performing a bizarre spell and returning to human form in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, Voldemort had risen again. Harry had seen it firsthand. Voldemort had tried to kill Harry, but once again, did not succeed. Harry survived and lived to tell of Voldemort's rebirth to Dumbledore. Few had believed them, however, and both were ridiculed endlessly. But after what had happened the day Sirius was killed, not even the person most in denial, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, could deny that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, and as strong as ever.

Now was the time Harry should be most cautious: watching the news closely, reading The Daily Prophet, asking Ron and Hermione for every bit of information on what was happening…but Harry was doing none of these things. This summer, Harry just wanted to forget who he was, why he was hurting, and so far, he wasn't succeeding.


	2. A Familiar Face

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.

"Harry…er…good morning," Uncle Vernon said awkwardly as Harry pushed through the door that lead into the kitchen. 

"Good morning," Harry said coolly. He smiled inwardly as he saw Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley all sitting together as they had every morning Harry could remember around the round table located in the kitchen. He knew what was coming next. 

"Uh, yes. Well, I've um, been noticing lately," Vernon stuttered, and then, as an afterthought added on "my boy" as if this morning, he had somehow transformed into a father-figure who was going to have a nice chat with Harry about the birds and the bees. "Um, well…where was I?" He asked.

"You've been noticing something…?"

"Ah, right. Well, or actually, I guess I should say I haven't been noticing something. Owls, that it. What I mean to be saying is, I haven't been noticing any owls lately and was just wondering whether or not you're still keeping in touch with your…friends?" Harry almost snorted. This was Uncle Vernon's round-about-way of making sure Harry had been writing to the Order. Uncle Vernon had always been scared of how wizards could ruin his reputation amongst his neighbors, but after Moody's threat at the end of last term, his worries had only escalated, and he had made sure, in his own way, that Harry had kept in contact with the Order.

"Yeah, I've been in contact with them," Harry said, "more or less." 

Aunt Petunia and Dudley momentarily forgot to pretend to read their magazines (The Star and Maxim, respectively) and their head's shot up to look at Harry's face. 

Uncle Vernon gagged on his eggs. "More or less?" he said sweetly.

"Yep," Harry said, opening the refrigerator to look for milk to pour into his bowl filled with cereal. "I think I sent one the other day. Or maybe it was a few days ago," Harry looked sidelong at Dudley's mouth which was opening wider and wider, while his eyes where coming close to popping out of his head. Harry waved his hand in the air, "Oh, the days do go by so quickly, don't they Dudley? I can't seem to keep track of how often I send an owl these days. Maybe I'll send one tomorrow –"

"NO!" They all said in unison, and then Aunt Petunia who recovered most quickly said, "How about you send one today?"

"Right now?" Dudley chimed in, food spurting out of his mouth. 

"Hmm, maybe," Harry said nonchalantly then grabbed his breakfast, turned, and walked out of the kitchen. He enjoyed making them squirm, the idea of his magical "friends" was the only thing Harry had that threatened the Dursleys and prevented them from throwing Harry back under the stairs. The Dursleys knew he couldn't practice magic because he was an underage wizard, but they also knew that he had many contacts who didn't have such restrictions.  

Harry walked into the sitting room and sat down in Uncle Vernon's favorite over-stuffed chair. He casually ate his breakfast while thinking about the Order and staring at his pajama bottoms. 

The Order of the Phoenix.

This was a group of of-age wizards who joined together, despite personality differences (Harry thought of Mrs. Weasley and Mundungus) and moral differences (Harry thought of Snape…and well _everyone_), to fight Voldemort and his followers. The group's headquarters was located at 12 Grimmauld Place in London, which had been Sirius' house when he was a child. A shot of pain ripped through Harry at the memory of his deceased godfather; Harry paused for a second before he continued to think of the Order. Every wizard that Harry had respected was a member of the group, from Mr. Weasley, to Lupin, and Dumbledore, to the infamous Mundungus.  

Last summer he had gone to 12 Grimmauld Place because he got into a bit of trouble with the Ministry of Magic. There he met up with Ron, Hermione…and Sirius. Both Ron (and all of the Weasley's) and Hermione were staying at the headquarters this summer as well. They were doing their part to help the cause, while Harry was stuck at number four Pivet Drive. Last summer he had resented this, this summer, Harry was thankful for it. 

While still considering his feelings toward the Order, a loud "Eeek" swept through the house. Startled, Harry looked around the room to see where the noise had come from. Was the TV on? He then heard another noise, this one quite loud from upstairs: a crashing of metals and wood. Harry understood, but before he could run upstairs to quiet the racket, he heard one more thing.

"OWL!" Uncle Vernon's voiced screamed. Harry begrudgingly clamored off of the comfortable chair, ran to the staircase, then up the stairs. There was no doubt in his mind who this owl was; there was only one who could make a mess of as simple a thing as delivering a letter. Pig. 

Turning the corner to his room, Harry saw through the open door that he was correct. Indeed, Ron Weasley's owl named Pig was flapping about in Harry's room, making a mess of the top of his dresser and nightstand. "Pig!" Harry screamed, "calm down, will you? You're going to disturb the neighbors -," but Harry stopped before he finished his sentence because it was oddly reminiscent of something Uncle Vernon would say. Instead, he grabbed the owl's body, gently tried to quiet him, and also muffle Pig's screams with his school scarf that had been nearby. His efforts failed – miserably.

"Can you quiet that?" Harry looked over to see Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia standing in Harry's open doorway looking as if they were trying to conceal great amounts of worry and anger. 

"I'm trying, he's just a little out-of-sorts." Harry had succeeded in quieting the bird, but was still having problems holding on to his wings, which had escaped his grasp and were flapping widely about. Pig was a small owl, whom always had trouble delivering messages a great distance away from where they were sent. However, the Weasley's were poor and he was all they could afford.

"Are you sure he's alright?" Aunt Petunia asked, staring at the bird and Harry, watching their fight for dominance. 

"Are you sure he's not possessed by that Voldy-man?" Uncle Vernon said, trying to inject some wit. He failed.

"Voldemort," Harry corrected, not failing to see the grimace Aunt Petunia gave at hearing the name of the Dark Lord. Most wizards flinch at hearing _his_ name, it is an unspoken word. They usually refer to Voldemort as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," or "You-Know-Who." But for a muggle (a non-magical being) to react as Aunt Petunia did was very odd. Harry often wondered whether she knew more about her sister Lily's life than she let on. He had to push these thoughts to the back of his head however, because Pig was still flailing about horrifically. 

Putting one hand on Pig's left side, and the other on his right, Harry was able to capture both wings and forcibly control them. He brought the wings down to the owl's sides and waited for Pig to realize he had lost the fight and calm down. Harry looked up at the Dursleys who were still watching from his doorway. As if realizing that they could say or do no more, they suddenly straightened up, turned, and walked back towards the stairwell. Harry looked down at Pig who was now acting almost owl-ish again and wondered if he could set him down safely. Looking around his room (which resembled one that had just had a large extra-clumsy troll pass through), Harry's eyes settled on Hedwig's empty cage.

Hedwig was Harry's snow owl. He had gotten her on his first trip to Diagon Alley just after he discovered he was a wizard. Harry had sent her to deliver a letter to Ron two days ago, and she still hadn't returned. This was unusual for an owl as loyal as Hedwig, but Harry wasn't worried. For one thing, he hadn't been using her half as much as he normally would have (even considering that during the summer he rarely needed her in the first place). And for another, he suspected she was busy with her own social life…Harry had always wondered how baby owls were made, and he jokingly pondered whether or not he would ask her the question next time she came home. Hedwig always came home, so Harry wasn't worried.

Snapping out of his thoughts about Hedwig, Harry walked over to his owl's cage and opened the clasp. He then tried to gingerly place the small owl into it, but ended up stuffing him in the cage when Pig, seeing his chances for freedom slipping away, started acting up again. Closing the cage, and locking the clasp, Harry looked at Pig's leg, expecting to see a letter that had been tied to it for delivery. However, he saw none. Why would Pig have been sent without a letter? Harry scanned the room to see if the owl's delivery had been dropped in his strange struggle, and was rewarded to find a small envelope near the foot of his bed. "Harry Potter" was printed on the front of the envelope in Hermione's neat handwriting. _It's for me then, _Harry thought, and then nearly slapped himself. Who else would it be for? Harry opened the letter and read: 

_Harry,_

_I've had to send this letter with Pig because all of the other owls are busy running various errands for the Order. "Confidential Business" of course. No new news from this front, if you're at all interested to know, but I doubt you are, Harry. That is what I am writing you about. _

_Ron and I (though _he_ won't admit it) have been concerned that you have become less than happy where you are. Mr. Weasley, Tonks, and Moody all think it's because the Dursley's are treating you badly, but we're a little less convinced. Harry, to be brutally honest, you were shutting all of us out last year, which was understandable considering…well, how Cedric died, but his death wasn't your fault. No matter what the reason though, Ron and I still felt hurt. You could have talked to us about it, or told us how you were feeling. Anything would have been easier for us than to see our friend fall farther and farther away…_

_Neither of us can imagine what you must feel now, after watching Sirius fall. We can only say we're sorry, and we miss him too. He was a great man, Harry, too many like him have been lost in the world. _

_We've all been reading the letters you send us, and they are very vague and unconvincing. It can't be easy for you right now, Harry, but I'm convinced that talking to friends will help - it's what we've been doing over at headquarters. _

_Sincerely, your friends,_

_Hermione and Ron._

_P.S. George and Fred keep us updated on what's happening in the meetings that the Order have weekly, and they've mentioned to us that Ms. Figg reported that she rarely sees you outside. Get out of the house Harry!_

Harry read through the letter twice. He wasn't sure whether to hate Hermione for assuming that it was within her right to write such a bold letter, or to cry because she was right and he was pushing them all away. Slowly, Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, and reread the letter once more. _He was a great man, Harry,_ she had written. _It can't be easy for you…_Harry stood and walked over to his desk. He opened the middle drawer which held some parchment and pens and got one of each out. He sat, and began writing.

_Hermione and Ron,_

_I am fine. I need to deal with the issues with myself before I go throwing them on someone else's shoulders. And, no, that won't "lighten the load" on my shoulders…not yet, anyways. I'm sorry for pushing you away and hurting you, it's just hard for me right now. I'll talk when I'm ready, but I'm not ready yet. See you in two weeks,_

_Harry_

The letter was short, and Harry knew it wouldn't satisfy Hermione's feelings, but it would have to do. He _didn't want _to hurt anyone – he had already done enough hurting – but he wasn't ready to open up yet. He imagined the time would come. Reading back over his letter, the last sentence struck him. _See you in two weeks. _In two weeks, school would be starting again. The summer holidays had flown by quickly. 

While opening Hedwig's cage, grabbing Pig's leg, and tying the letter onto it, it occurred to Harry that he had no idea how he was going to get all of his school supplies before he had to return to Hogwarts, he hadn't even gotten his letter detailing all of the new books he would need to buy for his sixth year! Harry decided he would need to ask the Dursley's to give him a ride to London, where he could get to Diagon Alley and purchase his new equipment. They would need to drive him to the train depot where the Hogwarts Express departed for school as well.

Harry pushed the small owl (who was behaving much more normally) out of his window and watched as the bird flew toward its destination. Harry felt surprised at how excited he was that school would be starting soon. He had been dreading it for most of the summer, but now he wanted the change in scenery. 

With new thoughts of happiness in his head, Harry left his room and walked down stairs, and out the door, leaving the number four Pivet Drive house behind, for the first occasion in a very long time.

The next day, Harry once again walked down the stairs and headed to the kitchen to get some breakfast. What he was really craving was a nice glass of warm butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks, but some pancakes and milk would suffice. He could already smell the aroma of fresh hotcakes.

Opening the kitchen door Harry saw Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley sitting as they always were around the table. "Good morning," he said.

All three Dursley's stared at him, Harry didn't bother to say anything else. He was happier today than he had been any other day this summer. The letter from Hermione had succeeded in lifting his spirits considerably. He had friends…

Harry grabbed a plate from the cupboard above the sink and careful chose which pancakes he wanted to eat from the stack laying on a hotplate. 

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat, "Harry, Petunia, Dudley and I are going on a trip to Ireland next week," he announced. "I might get a promotion. You won't be coming."

Harry looked at Vernon, stunned. The Dursley's couldn't leave next week! He needed a ride to London so he could go to Diagon Alley, and he also needed to get to the train station so he could board the Hogwarts Express

 "But if I stay here," Harry said, "I won't be able to get to Diagon Alley or the train station. How will I get to Hogwa - er, I mean my school?"

"We've taken care of that, boy." 

"How?"

Uncle Vernon eyed Aunt Petunia suspiciously, "Your Aunt was able to contact one of your friends last night. And by "friends," you know what I mean, of course. He said he'd take care of everything, although he wasn't too keen on us leaving. Your lot threatens a man, and then they beg him to take care of their "hero child." Why can't they just take the boy, I ask myself…" but then Uncle Vernon trailed off into mumbles.

"Who? Who's going to take care of me?" When Uncle Vernon, still thinking about the complexities and rudeness of wizard behavior, didn't answer he turned to Aunt Petunia. "Who did you contact?"

Aunt Petunia was a very bony woman who had very long fingers and a horse-like face. "A man," she answered, still looking at her plate. Harry was about to ask for more information when she looked up suddenly and said, "I heard my sister speak of him once."

Harry's heart came to a halt. This was only the third time Harry could ever remember Aunt Petunia speaking of her sister, his mom, and it was most assuredly the only time she had spoke of her with a touch of something in her voice….was it regret? Love? _No, _Harry thought, _probably just some piece of pancake that got caught in her throat. _

Harry didn't know what to say. He wasn't much hungry anymore, so he left his plate of half-cut pancakes on the counter and walked out of the kitchen. 

"He's picking you up tonight," he heard Aunt Petunia whisper as the door shut behind him.

Harry listened from his room as the clock downstairs chimed nine-o'clock PM. It was night. Who was picking him up? 

While packing his things into a trunk that day (which would have taken about two minutes if it had been legal to use magic during the summer holidays), Harry wondered who the mysterious man would be. If Harry could have chosen anyone it would have been Sirius, but Sirius was dead now. He was sure that if still alive, Sirius would have come flying gallantly through the front door on a broom stick, grabbed Harry and his luggage and then would have flown right back out the door and into the night sky, leaving the Dursley's behind hiding wimpishly in separate corners of the house. 

But Sirius was dead, and dead men can't fly on broomsticks. Harry supposed his new watcher would be Moody or Shacklebolt, someone like that. 

Harry sat in his desk chair, and then he sat on his bed, and then he rechecked his luggage, and then rechecked it again. He looked under his bed to make sure he hadn't left anything of interest under it, and then he passed by a mirror and started to examined himself.

He had the same hair that his father had: unruly and black. He was skinny and tall, but Harry noticed that his shoulders had broadened a little and he no longer looked scrawny. People who had known his father often commented that Harry resembled James almost perfectly, except for his eyes. James had had brown, but Harry had his mother's striking green eyes. His eyes peered at him through the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses. Slowly, his gaze traveled up to his forehead, where Harry's most distinguishing feature sat. The lightening bolt shaped mark that had been scarred onto Harry's head the night that Voldemort had tried to kill him. Harry pushed the hair on his head down over his forehead to try to cover the scar. He was unsuccessful. _Thanks for the genes, dad. _

The doorbell rang, and Harry jumped. He grabbed his luggage and ran downstairs. Whoever was at the door was here to pick him up and take him away, he was sure of it. He managed to successfully reach the last step when Aunt Petunia opened the door.

"Come in," he heard her say.

 "Quickly" Uncle Vernon added, entering the room and looking out the window, darting his head from side to side, looking for nosy neighbors.

"Yes, of course," came a man's voice. Harry knew the voice, but the wizard that stepped into the light of the Dursley home wasn't whom he had expected.

Remus Lupin. Harry slapped himself mentally for not guessing that this was the wizard Aunt Lupin had written to. Lupin was the most obvious choice. 

Lupin's eyes landed directly on Harry who was still standing at the bottom of the staircase. He smiled broadly, which brought a youthful glow to the wizards prematurely-aged face. Remus Lupin had been one of his father's most close friends. He, Sirius, Peter Pettigrew and James had all attended Hogwarts together and had had quite the reputation around school; they were funny, popular, smart, and (Harry remembered cynically) a little arrogant. Lupin had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in Harry's third year, which was undoubtedly his favorite in that subject. Lupin had been wise and funny, good natured and willing to teach, but had resigned from the position because it was discovered that he was a werewolf. Most parents didn't want a werewolf teaching their children, even if his condition was under control – most of the time. 

Now that Sirius was dead, Lupin was Harry's closest and last link to his father. And amongst the joy of seeing Harry again in Lupin's eyes, Harry was also quite sure he saw the look of mourning as well. Lupin had lost his last best friend in Sirius, just as Harry had lost his godfather. 

"Harry," Lupin said walking over to him, "it's good to see you, my boy."

Harry and Lupin embraced, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon  looked on awkwardly. 

"Lupin," Harry said, suddenly feeling the need to closely control his voice, the last thing he needed was to sound weepy. "It's good to see you too." 

Lupin let Harry go from his clutches and looked down towards his face, which wasn't as far away from his as it had once been. "How's the holiday been?" was all he could seem to ask.

Harry smiled. "Good," was all he could seem to answer.

Uncle Vernon, still standing near the door, coughed. Lupin and Harry turned to look at him. "Well," Vernon said, "it's been very charming, but I believe it's time-"

"I think it's time for us to go, Harry," Lupin finished. "Why don't you say goodbye to your family, while I take your trunk outside?" Lupin pushed Harry toward the Dursleys, who were both looking quite surprised by this suggestion. Surprised and appalled. Lupin picked up Harry's trunk and walked out the door. 

Harry watched him leave, wide mouthed, "Uh, well. Goodbye, then."

"Bye," Uncle Vernon spat, with no sincerity in his voice.

"Bye," Aunt Petunia whispered. Harry saw she was standing a little less tall than she usually did, but didn't have much time to guess why before he saw Lupin outside of the open door gesturing for to him to come. Harry walked outside, closed the door behind him, boarded his broom that Lupin had "_accio-ed_" from his room with his trunk attached firmly to it, and lifted off into the night sky with Lupin on his side, leaving number four Pivet Drive behind.


	3. One of Four

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series.. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.

Harry had flown on a broomstick in a situation like this a year ago. He had just been taken from the Dursley's by a group of wizards sent by the Order of the Phoenix to protect him and guide him to their headquarters. It had been very cold that night, and Lupin had been with him then too. 

"Harry," Lupin started, "We're heading to London. It's North, against the wind tonight, which is just our luck." 

Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the headquarters of the Order, was in London. "Are we going to Gimmauld Place?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry."

Harry searched his mind for other places that were in London. "Diagon Alley?"

"No."

"The Ministry of Magic?"

"No."

Harry was running out of places to guess. The only other magical place in London he knew of was Platform 9 and 3/4, which was where students boarded the Hogwarts Express. If they were going to the platform, however, they would be staying there for nearly two weeks, which was not Harry's idea of a good time. Not to mention how unsafe that could be! Usually Lupin protected Harry as closely as possible. However, Harry asked anyway: "Platform 9 and ¾?"

Lupin snorted, "And stay there for two weeks? No, that's not where we're going Harry."

There was silence as Harry continued to think about where they were going, and Lupin wasn't helping much. Flying above the little houses on the ground, Harry saw nothing but small lights that were the light of illuminated streetlamps and houses. Harry felt a little cold, but the chill in the air reminded him of waking up early some mornings at Hogwarts and going outside to fly on his Firebolt, the same one he was riding now. 

Lupin glanced sideways at Harry. "You belong on a broom Harry, just as your father did."

"I've always heard my dad rode well."

"He did. He was good at many things. Most things actually."

Harry felt some anger bubbling inside of his stomach. Last year, Professor Snape, a dead-looking teacher who hated Harry for what seemed like absolutely no reason, had been assigned to teach Harry Occlumency (a way of protecting outside forces from penetrating one's thoughts), and while Snape was out one day Harry had peeked into the Pensive Snape had left on his desk. In the Pensive Harry saw Snape's worst memory ever, which consisted of Harry's father, Sirius, and Peter taunting Snape and attacking him "just because he's alive." Lupin had sat in the background, saying nothing. 

Before seeing this, Harry had only heard glowing things about James (excluding Snape's remarks of course), and he had started to believe that his father was a great guy. A good man. Harry had always wanted to be like his father's perfect image, but now, Harry was disgusted with him. Was Harry as arrogant as James? Was Snape right about how awful his father really was?

"Harry?" Lupin asked concerned "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Fine."

There was silence for a few more minutes as Lupin guided Harry around a rather large cloud. 

"So, what'd you do this summer?"

"I told you everything in my letters."

"Oh, right," Lupin said, sounding as if he was as convinced that Harry's letters were false as Hermione and Ron were. Harry noted to himself that he would have to become a better liar.

A question popped into Harry's head. "Lupin, how did you know to come get me tonight?"

"Well, how did you know that I was coming to get you Harry?" Lupin retorted.

"Aunt Petunia told me this morning."

Lupin seemed to consider this, and then nodded. "Your aunt sent me an owl last night." Seeing the look on Harry's face, Lupin added, "And I have no clue how she got the owl, but it came to me just as it was meant to."

"How did she know about you?"

"Well, your guess is as good as mine, but I'd think that over a holiday one year when James came to visit Lily, Petunia overheard her mentioning my name. That'd be the only way, I'd think"

"What'd the owl's letter say, Lupin?" Harry asked.

Lupin smiled, "Your father called my Moony."

"What?" Harry asked startled at the abrupt change in subject.

"I have to admit Harry, the first time I arrived at Hogwarts it was so strange to hear you call me Professor Lupin. You looked so much like your father did, and he had always called me Moony."

Unsure what to say, and a little annoyed that Lupin kept bringing up his father, Harry open and closed his mouth a few times, then asked, "What would you like me to call you?"

"Lupin's fine. You can call me Remus if you'd like. I think "Moony" needs to be set to the side for a little while," he said and then trailed off. "Harry," he finally said again, "I don't think you should judge your aunt too harshly just yet, no matter what sort of hell she's put you through as a child."

Harry wanted to ask more, but he felt that the conversation was closed now. Lupin's broom veered to the left, and Harry followed.

The two wizards flew for another hour before Lupin told Harry to drop lower to the ground, they were now surrounded by complete darkness, tonight was a new moon. 

"Ah, we're here," Lupin said, stopping abruptly in midair. 

Harry looked down to see why Lupin had stopped. They were flying above a small bit of countryside with no buildings in site, save for one small house below them. Small hills seemed to create ripples in the ground surrounding the lone house. "Where is "here?" Harry asked.

"This is my house," Lupin said dropping lower and lower to the ground, then finally dismounting on a patch of grass. Harry followed.

He had never seen Lupin's house. In the six short years he had known of the wizarding world, Harry had only seen two true wizard houses, the Weasley's rickety yet homey Burrow, and Sirius' dark, old, house on Grimmauld Place.

Lupin's house was nothing like either of these. From the front it looked just like a large cube, with two windows sitting on either side of a lone door in the front, and a slightly tilted roof. It was so dark outside, Harry couldn't make out the color of the paint, but Harry assumed it was some sort of neutral color, which seemed like something Lupin would choose. 

Clutching his broom to his side, Harry followed as Lupin took out a small key and inserted it into the keyhole on the door. Lupin casually turned the knob and pushed open the door, while gesturing Harry inside and grabbing Harry's luggage, which Harry had neglected to remember. 

Walking through the threshold, Harry was surprised at how sparse the first room was decorated. Harry thought that this must be the living room, the kitchen, and the dining room all rolled into one. There was a small refrigerator in the corner, which sat next to an equally small counter with a few plates and glasses stacked on top. Harry took a few more steps into the room and saw a dusty couch facing a fireplace with a large cauldron in it, as well as a round dining table with two chairs pushed under it. However, Harry wasn't surprised to see the rows and rows of books that lined the walls of Lupin's house. 

Lupin walked into the room, with Harry's trunk floating magically behind him. "This is the main room," he said. "It's a bit simple, but I rarely get any company, you understand," he added apologetically. "You're the first person to be here since Sirius came at the end of your fourth year."

Sirius had been here. Harry felt the familiar pang in his stomach, and wondered if it would ever completely leave. "I like it," Harry said.

"Well, it suits me. I usually sleep on the couch. There are two rooms in the back, through that door there," he pointed at a door on Harry's right. "One's a bathroom, which is the door on the right, and the other room is the bedroom, which you can sleep in. Sirius told me the bed was pretty comfortable when he slept in it, but I haven't been in there to check if any puffeskeins have moved in recently. Sorry about the condition of this place, Harry."

Harry was examining the titles of a few of the books (_Personal Demons and How to Attack_, _Merlin's Magical Prowess _etc.), "Uh…don't be. It's loads better than the Dursleys."

"Yes, their house was rather clean wasn't it?" Lupin said evenly. "Tonks didn't like it much when we visited last year. Said your room was much more suited to her tastes," Lupin smiled. And Harry once again saw a young wizard not yet in his prime through the shabby robes and unkempt appearance. "Well, Harry, you must be tired. Your room is through that door, then turn through the one on your left."

"Ah, yes. Well, er, thanks Lupin," Harry said while opening the door that revealed a hallway with a door on each wall. Harry turned the knob of the left door, and entered. Inside he saw a large bed pressed against the left wall, a small bedside table, and a single window. Harry set his chest down at the end of the bed, opened it, and pulled out some pajamas. While changing into them, Harry thought of Lupin. He had forgotten to ask one of the most obvious questions: Why did you bring me to your house, and not the Order? He decided to ask that tomorrow.

Before Harry went to bed he carefully examined it for an infestation of any kind. Finding none, he pulled back the sheets and blankets and climbed into bed.

"Lupin, if you don't mind me asking, why did you bring me here? Harry asked the next morning. He had just awoken from a dreamless sleep, had walked out of his room, and found Lupin awake pouring cereal (which was an odd Muggle dish that Lupin had seemed to take a liking to) into two bowls. "I thought I heard you wake up," Lupin had said when handed Harry a bowl.

Lupin looked up from reading _The_ _Daily Prophet_, the major wizarding newspaper in Britain. He regarded Harry evenly and after a few moments he spoke, "Where would you have had me bring you?"

"Well, I just thought that we would go to the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters, seeing as that was where I was brought last year, and it must be the safest place for me when I'm not at Hogwarts or with the Dursley's."

"Are you concerned for your safety here, Harry?" Lupin asked slowly.

Harry was getting annoyed, he had just wanted an answer to his question and now he was the one being interrogated. "No, no nothing like that. It's just – I mean, you know, apparently I'm most safe from Voldemort when I'm with the Dursleys or with Dumbledore at Hogwarts. I was even safe surrounded by all those wizards who were there with me at Grimmauld Place last year," Harry paused, wondering how to continue. "But my family isn't here to protect me, neither is Dumbledore, and the only wizard within miles seems to be you, Lupin! And, you're great and all, but if Voldemort was to find us, I'm not sure you and I could defeat him alone."

"I'm not going to be the one who's going to need to defeat Voldemort," Lupin said quietly. Harry knew what he was thinking, but didn't want to talk about it so he let the comment pass him.

Harry continued on slowly, "Lupin, am I safe here?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Voldemort won't find this place, at least not for the two weeks you need to be here. Beyond that, you don't need to worry."

"Why here and not with the rest of the Order."

A sparkle shot into Lupin's eyes, "Well, if you like them better than me-"

"Lupin! Come on this is serious," Harry sighed.

Lupin rubbed his hand over his face, then looked directly into Harry's eyes. "You're safer with me here than you are anywhere else right now. And we have some things we need to discuss."

Harry was confused. What would they talk about? Harry briefly considered that Lupin meant to talk to him about some recent Quidditch matches, or something along those lines. He decided against that, however. "Discuss?" he asked.

"About Sirius," Lupin said, head bent.

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure what to say. What needed to be discussed? He was dead. That was pretty simple. Did Lupin want to discuss Sirius and his deadness? Harry would rather not have started to think about Sirius at all and he took a sudden interest in his hands, bending them at the wrist.

"Harry I didn't plan on doing this so suddenly," Lupin started, "I wanted you to be able to get comfortable here with me, and then I thought maybe we could sit down calmly and discuss things."

"What things? What's there to be discussed," Harry asked still watching his wrists bend.

"Many things, Harry."

Harry looked up and met Lupin's eyes, which were looking at him unsurely. Harry didn't want to discuss "many things," right now. Or ever. "I need to write Hermione and Ron," he said hastily. He stood up from the table, and walked outside, his wand in his belt. He planned on _Accio_-ing himself a quill and some parchment. Lupin didn't stop him from leaving.  

That night, Harry sat on the edge of the bed in his room and thought about the letters he had written to Hermione and Ron. In them he discussed his departure from the Dursley's house, and his arrival at Lupin's. He imagined they already knew that where he was, but he told them anyways. He didn't mention what Lupin wanted to talk about, he didn't see that worth mentioning. 

That whole day Harry had spent exploring the scenery near Lupin's house. He hadn't wandered far, because he didn't want to be seen by anything – or anyone. Harry did discover some interesting rocks, but not much else.

Suddenly, there was a knock on Harry's door. He jumped, surprised. "Come in," he said, although he didn't want any company.

Lupin entered the room. "Ah," he said. "So it wasn't too dirty. I was worried that we might have to rush you to the hospital with a fatal disease brought on by a sudden attack of dirty bed sheets."

Harry knew he should have smiled, but didn't. "Do you need something?"

Lupin sighed, "Harry we do need to talk." Then, "Better now than later."

"I disagree. I'd rather not talk now _or_ later, thanks." Harry felt anger boiling again.

"Harry,-"

"What? What do you want to talk about? He's dead! Sirius is dead! I realize that, I've accepted it, okay?! I really don't need to talk to you about it!" Harry was losing his patience. He didn't want to discuss this. Lupin and Dumbledore and whomever else knew about this little chitchat plan, were crossing a line. It was no right of theirs to bring Harry to the middle of nowhere so he could be forced into talking about his dead godfather! Why couldn't they let him grieve on his own?

"Harry," Lupin said again, his voice rising, "You need to calm down. No, don't interrupt me," he said quickly. "You need to hear some things, and I'm the only one present who can tell you. Now you can either listen, or you can't. It's your choice!"

Harry was startled. He had never heard Lupin speak to _him_ like this. Lupin had always been kind and caring towards Harry, always patient and understanding. Harry felt suddenly ashamed at having had such an outburst. He was more mature than that - he needed to prove it. "I can listen," he said in a barely audible whisper.

"Good choice," Lupin said, his emotions under control and even as they usually were. He moved towards Harry's bed and sat near the head of it, facing Harry. He took a few breaths, as if what he was about to say would take courage that he needed to muster. 

Harry looked at the floor.

            "Harry, when I attended Hogwarts, Sirius, James, er, your father, Peter, and I were very close. We did everything, good or bad, together – all four of us." Harry shivered as he thought of Snape's Pensive memory and nodded. "If you were to characterize each of us, I suppose I would have been the book-crazy boy, I studied a lot and turned in all, or um well, most of my papers," Lupin smiled sweetly now, as if remembering a happy memory. "Peter - may he rot - worshipped James. That was his role, I suppose. He would do anything your father asked of him, but as some events may have shown you, he wasn't _loyal _as much as hewas in awe of your dad. And then there was Sirius. Sirius and James were truly inseparable. Even though we were all close friends, it sometimes felt as though Peter and I were just spectators to Sirius and James' friendship. 

            "James and Sirius complimented each other so wonderfully. Sirius was handsome and passive, almost seeming like a slacker at times. He was always laughing, there was always a twinkle in his eye, but that didn't mean you would want to offend him – that would be a disaster. Sirius wouldn't do any of his work – and his grades proved it, but he was still a wonderful, truly gifted and clever wizard. Everyone loved Sirius, his presence filled a room." Lupin stopped here, needing to recollect himself. Harry couldn't think, he wasn't sure if he should say anything. He remained silent.

            "Yes," he continued, "Sirius' presence filled a room, but it was never complete without James – your father." Now, Harry looked up and met Lupin's eyes. They were wet. "James was what held each of us together. He was our glue, Harry, and without him, our personalities always seemed to clash, we always got into arguments. I suppose it wasn't just Peter that was in awe of James - it was all of us. Even Sirius, he looked up to your father as well, as did the whole school. Not one person, student and certainly not staff, didn't know of James. He was known for his pranks with Sirius, his skill on the Quidditch field, as well as for his talent in the classroom. James was one of the smartest wizards in at Hogwarts. He didn't have to study - he simply knew the material. He was so intelligent. He was so well loved, by all." Lupin paused again. A tear had just begun to fall from his left eye, he swiped it away. "Forgive me Harry, this is hard for me. It's hard for me to remember these things sometimes."

            "I understand," Harry said quietly. _His father. _A small bubble was growing in Harry's throat, threatening to pop soon. He knew that soon, his eyes would be as wet at Lupin's. 

Lupin nodded and continued, "I needed to explain all of that to you because they were probably a few of the best years of my life. Hogwarts was where I first discovered friendship and love, emotions I hadn't known before then. Your father and Sirius showed me these things. I owe so much of who I am to the two of them, your father and your godfather. But, I can't tell them my thanks, I can't tell them how they changed and shaped me, how they affected my life so beautifully. They're both dead now," Lupin said, tears rushing from his eyes. He threw his hands up to his head and sobbed into them. 

Harry wasn't sure what to do. He had never considered his father's, Sirius' and Lupin's friendship. It rarely crossed his mind that Lupin had lost his best friends. Harry had only thought of himself when Sirius died, but now he realized, Lupin had been hurting just as much as he had. Lupin had the right to be hurting far worse than Harry ever could. "Lupin," Harry said haltingly. Suddenly tears started escaping from Harry's eyes. Harry wasn't sure if they were for Lupin or himself.

Lupin raised his head from his hands, his eyes now puffy and red, and looked at Harry. Water spots stained his tattered robes. He took a breath, then continued to talk slowly. "Harry, I've lost my two best friends to Voldemort. I think the worst was James, who was taken from us when we were so young. He and your mother were so beautiful," Lupin's voiced wavered. "They were courageous, the both of them. His death hurt me so much because I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, a chance to talk to him one last time. I blame myself everyday for letting him go without telling him what I should have. After his death, Sirius, Peter and I were changed. Of course, Sirius was taken to Azkaban wrongfully accused, and I tried to hate him, but I truly couldn't, because inside I knew James and Sirius' friendship was too strong to be broken so brutally by either of them. Almost three years ago, when Sirius escaped and everything was discovered under the Whomping Willow, I was relieved. Sirius and I kept in touch after he fled the Dementor's Kiss but we both knew we had been changed. 

"No longer were we as carefree as we had been at Hogwarts. James was murdered, and Sirius and I blamed ourselves. Our glue was gone, and I don't think it had truly hit either of us until we were both together again. The two friends remaining of the four that had started. 

At the end of your fourth year, Sirius came to stay with me in this house. He and I were both restless; we wanted to join the movement to help the Order of the Phoenix restart. When Sirius offered his house and Dumbledore accepted, the Order had a headquarters and could officially begin again. However, both Sirius and I remembered the death of James and Lily and so before he moved back into his mother's old house, we had a talk."

Harry wiped the tears that were rushing from his eyes off of his face. His father's death had hit Lupin hard, the pain was still obvious on his face. 

Would you like some water Harry? Something to eat?" Lupin asked, breaking away from the story.

Startled, it took a moment for Harry to digest the questions as being apart from the story, and directed at him. "Hmm? Oh um, no. No, thank you."

Lupin nodded. "Okay, then I'm going to continue. I need to get this out. During Sirius' last night here, he and I sat down and began to talk. I told him that I needed him to know how much I appreciated him. How much I treasured the many happy moments we got to spend together as friends, and how sorry I was that James was gone, and we could have no more moments like them. Sirius cried, and I cried. He told me that he missed James more than anything. We both said we would change places with James in an instant – a life so vibrant like his was should not have been lost before it was fully lived. 

"It hurt to talk to Sirius about James. Those two had been so close. I felt that my pain was nothing to what his must have been. James and Sirius…" Lupin trailed off, as if forgetting that he was telling a story. He quickly continued, "We both knew the dangers of going back into the Order, returning to fight Voldemort, but we didn't once consider _not_ joining in again. If not for the fight against the evil that Voldemort brings, for James. For Lily. And for you Harry."

Harry was startled to hear his name in the story. What did he have to do with this? This was a story about his father's friends…

"Yes, Harry. Most of all, for you. Sirius and I lost dear friends in Lily and James, but you lost parents. During our conversation, we talked about our memories, and how we were both so lucky to have them -to have shared those moments with Lily and James. But you Harry, never had those moments. Sirius and I wished you could have. Your parents were the greatest of people. I was lucky to know them, even for the short time that I did."

Lupin lowered his gaze toward the ground and closed his eyes. "A month and I half ago, my last best friend was taken from me. Sirius fell through the veil. He is gone now too. I replay his last moments over and over in my head, as I'm sure you do too Harry. His face. It looked so shocked and fearful. So shocked. Fearful." Lupin started shaking now, his whole body shivering as if something cold was passing through him. "I saw his eyes, Harry, they were searching the room as he was falling. Searching frantically, looking for something. And at the very last moment, right before he was gone through the veil, his eyes found their target. They found you."

Harry's heart stopped beating in his chest. His legs and arms were numb. His head was pounding, and all he could do was cry. Harry sobbed and sobbed. _Sirius._

Lupin looked up from the ground to Harry. His jaw tightened and he continued to talk, "Now Sirius is gone, and I am the one left of four." Lupin's gaze deepened into Harry's head as he spoke now, "In that conversation we had before he moved out, Sirius and I talked about you, Harry. He loved you. You were hope to him. Hope and remembrance. You were his dreams - when he looked at you all he saw was light and love." Lupin paused here, and looked at Harry directly in the eyes. His tears had stopped falling, and his face had taken on a steely reserve. Lupin's voice however, was as gentle as ever, "So, I was not surprised that his eyes fell upon you as he went through the veil. Sirius' last glimpse of this world was you, Harry. You, and all of your hope, remembrance, light and love."


	4. Departures and Arrivals

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series.. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.

Departures

Harry felt a jolt run through his body. He didn't know what to feel or to think. His whole life Harry had just wanted to belong, to be accepted and loved. And as Lupin finished telling his story, Harry finally felt complete. Sirius had loved him.

Sirius had loved him and that was all that mattered. That was all that would ever matter. There had been so much pain and loss in Harry's young life, that he had never truly understood the power of love until now. And even now it was too late. Sirius was gone.

But still, Sirius had loved him. 

Harry's tears stopped falling. He was able to feel his arms and his legs. He could lift his head easily, the pressure had been removed from it. For the first time in a very long time, Harry felt as though he was seeing things clearly.

"Lupin," he said after a pause, his voice now strong and under control. "I'm sorry that you lost your best friends."

His former professor's eyes widened. Clearly, he had been surprised at what Harry had just said. "Harry?" he asked.

A tight smile came over Harry's lips. "I am so sorry that you lost your friends."

"No, Harry," Lupin's voice was still wavering, "this talk was not meant for me. I needed to tell you everything so _you_ would learn to accept your father's, mother's, and Sirius' death. Don't be sorry for me."

"I am sorry for anyone who suffers," Harry said simply. I never knew my parents, but I think that everything I do, I do for them. I fight for them, and now for Sirius."

Lupin stared at Harry. His hands were by his sides, and his crying had ceased. He seemed to be in amazement at what this young boy of 16 had said. "To have known all of the pain you have in your life, and to look upon the world and see things that are still worth fighting for, is something I often have to force myself to do. You have grown."

Harry nodded, but was suddenly feeling the strength that had taken him by such surprise failing. He had said what he said out of nowhere, the words just came running out of his mouth. Not knowing where else to look, he looked towards the bedside table and noticed for the first time that a picture frame sat atop it.

"What's in that frame?" Harry asked Lupin, nodding toward the bedside table.

Lupin was taken aback at the sudden turn of questioning and quickly turned to the table to see what Harry was talking about. His bony hands slowly reached out for the frame and picked it up clutching the sides. A smile crept over his face still wet with the remnants of tears. "This is a picture of the four of us. James, Lily, Sirius and I. It was taken our last day at Hogwarts. How odd, I haven't seen this in nearly 18 years." He looked at the picture a little longer, and then held it towards Harry. Harry took the frame and examined its contents.

The picture was set against a background of the Forbidden Forest. Harry could tell because the tress that grew there were the only ones that looked so old. Harry saw Lupin, his face young and unwrinkled, his hair still completely light brown, smiling towards the camera. In one hand was a book, "_Werewolves and Their Anarchist Ways,"_ the other hand was draped over a young Sirius' shoulder. Sirius had the same black hair, which fell around his face perfectly, his broad smile shared with a twinkle in each eye. He was looking directly at the camera and laughing. Right next to him was James, almost a carbon copy of Harry, except taller, broader, and his eyes were brown. James' hair was everywhere, and his glasses were close to falling off of his nose. His smile was contagious, and Harry found himself smiling along with him. James' arm was clutching on to a girl, Harry's mother. Lily had unmistakable features, bright green eyes and long red hair that flowed around her shoulders as she tried to escape from the picture. She too was smiling. The Lupin, Sirius, James and Lily in the picture were all so happy and full of life. Harry envied them.

A thought crossed Harry's mind, "Where's Peter?"

"Oh," Lupin smiled, "he's the one taking the picture. James had asked him to, of course." 

"Right," Harry said continuing to look at the picture. This was how he wanted to remember his parents, happy and carefree.

"Harry, there's one last thing I need to tell you," Lupin said quietly. "It can wait until tomorrow, if you'd prefer that."

Harry looked up He had thought he had heard the last of Lupin's story. What else was there to tell? "That's okay, I can hear it now."

Lupin nodded. "Okay then. Well, each wizard who joins the Order of the Phoenix has always been required to make a list of assets. A will. We all know that we run the risk of dying when we are part of the Order, so it is required that we write what we wish to happen to our things in case the worst happens to us, or if we die." Harry was thoroughly confused by this statement, but didn't ask what Lupin meant. "Naturally, when Sirius joined the Order again, he was asked to make a new will. He did, and in it he divided up his possessions. Well, those he had remaining, anyway."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

"In short, Harry. Sirius considered you his heir, even though you weren't related to him. He had no one closer to pass his most precious things to, so the natural choice was you."  
            Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't even thought about Sirius having a will. He should have though, it would have been the natural thing for wizards who put themselves in harms way to do. "He left me something?" Harry asked.

"Don't sound so surprised, Harry. Of course he did. When Sirius died, he only had three things within his possession (everything else had been confiscated and destroyed by the Dementors). He had his house, his bank account, and one other thing (which had been returned to him after his innocence was proved to a certain person). Now, he left his house and bank account to the Order of the Phoenix. Goodness knows Harry, your own account at Gringotts doesn't need any more filling, and the house…well, let's just say you don't need the house. So, he left you the one last thing he had." Lupin paused and Harry waited. "Unfortunately, he said that if he should die before he could give it to you himself - before you were of-age - than you would have to wait to receive it."

Harry's face lowered immediately, and Lupin laughed aloud. Was this a joke? His godfather had left him something, but he wouldn't be able to have it? "What do you mean?" Harry asked, not meaning to sound greedy, but he wanted every piece of Sirius that he could get.

"I just mean that Sirius made it known in his will, that if you were under-age you would have to wait. Sorry, Harry."

"Was it some sort of joke to tell me all of this then? If so, it was unrightfully cruel."

"Not at all," Lupin said. "Although I dare say that Sirius wrote that rule just to make you squirm. That's how he was."

"I know."

There was a brief pause and then Lupin slowly got up from the head of the bed, where he had been sitting for the past hour, explaining everything to Harry. "I think it's time for bed, Harry. Good night." He made a move to leave the room, but Harry suddenly stood as well, walked over to Lupin, and put his arms around his father's friend – his friend – in the most manly of ways, of course.

"Thank you," Harry said. 

Lupin was surprised at Harry's gesture, but quickly relaxed and wrapped his arms around the boy, as well. "You are welcome, Harry Potter."

Then, they parted – again, in the manliest of ways – and Lupin left the room, while Harry changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. His thoughts were on his parents until he slowly drifted off to sleep.

The remaining twelve days went by quickly for Harry. He spent his time exploring the land, reading various books around the house, and writing to Hermione and Ron. He didn't mention any of his conversation with Lupin, however. He wasn't sure if he would tell them, it seemed too private and personal. 

During his fifth day at Lupin's house, an owl came for Harry. Even before the owl dropped the envelope it was carrying in it's beak to Harry, he knew what it was. His Ordinary Wizarding Level (O.W.L) results. The O.W.L.s were tests that every wizard attending Hogwarts was required to take at the end of their fifth year. The results of this test determined whether or not you could be in any N.E.W.T classes, which where only for the highly advanced students. 

The owl lowered to the ground, then hovered above Harry and opened his beak. The envelope fell from the bird into Harry's outstretched hand. It felt heavier than most of his mail. He lowered his arm, and slowly examined the envelope. One the front said it read:

Harry Potter

Remus Lupin's house

2325

Harry didn't understand what "2325" meant, but assumed that it was some sort of address. He slowly turned the envelope over and saw the Hogwarts insignia and seal. Slowly, while taking deep breaths he opened the small envelope and pulled out a very long sheet of paper that read:

Ordinary Wizarding Level results 

For

Harry Potter

Trying to contain his eagerness to look down the page frantically, he slowly lowered his gaze to the lines below. 

_Mr. Potter's results are as written below._

_O- Outstanding_

_E- Exceeds Expectations_

_A- __Average_

_D- You did not pass, don't even bother caring._

_Astronomy- D._

_Comments: Unfortunately you did not finish your star chart._

_Comments: Charms- E. _

_Comments: none._

_Care of Magical Creatures- E._

_Comments: Very good job with the knarl._

_Defense Against the Dark Arts- O._

_Comments: Professor Tofty would once again like to express his enthusiasm regarding your Patronous._

_Divination- D._

_Comments: The examiner, Professor Marchbanks, would like to inform  you that she is indeed still alive, and has yet to meet a round, dark, soggy stranger._

_History of Magic- D. _

_Comments: Your examiner wondered if it was drool she found on your exam._

_Herbology- A._

_Comments: none._

_Potions- A. E. **O**._

_Comments: none. _

_Transfiguration- E._

_Comments: Very impressive practical work._

_Total: 6 O.W.L.s_

Harry read and reread the paper. He had gotten six O.W.L.s! This was nothing up to Hermione's standards, but Harry was very surprised at how well he had done. His potions answer was a little confusing. Was it an A, E, or O? He needed an O to get into Professor Snape's N.E.W.T level class, but why was his letter crossed out and replaced so many times? 

When he showed his marks to Lupin, he expected he'd have a few of the same questions, but instead Lupin just laughed. 

"Professor McGonagall didn't do a very good job at concealing her handiwork, did she?"

"What?" Harry had asked, having no clue what Lupin meant. But Lupin didn't answer, instead he just congratulated Harry on his good work and got back to reading _The Daily Prophet_.

The next day, Harry's book list came by owl. He opened the letter and two parchments came out. One, as usual, reminded Harry that school started on the first of September. The other listed the books that Harry would need to buy for his new school term.

"I'll need three new books," he told Lupin, then handed Lupin the sheet. Harry didn't feel like going to Diagon Alley this year to buy his supplies, so Lupin said he'd take care of the books for him. Harry had no clue how that would work. 

"Are you ready Harry?" Lupin yelled through the wall into Harry's now clean and nearly vacant room. 

"Yes!" Harry yelled back, picking up his trunk and Hedwig's (still empty) cage. He walked out through the hall into the main room of Lupin's house. 

"You're going to be late, Harry." Lupin said, frantically gesturing Harry over to the kitchen table where a small paperweight was now sitting.

Harry had thought the very same thing. The Hogwarts Express was leaving in a matter of minutes, and he wasn't anywhere near Platform 9 and 3/4 . "Lupin, how come you made me wait this long to leave? There's no way we're going to make it to the platform in time."

"Sure there is Harry. I just need to tell you that it was very fun spending these past weeks with you. You are a wonderful young man. You remind me a lot of a young boy I used to know."

Harry's father.

"Thank you," Harry said. 'But maybe we can have the touching talk in the car, or on the broom, or whatever…we need to get to the platform now!"

"Of course," Lupin said, then made to head for the door. Harry started to follow, but Lupin turned around and said one more thing. "Harry, can you please get that paperweight for me, I need it."

Harry, annoyed with another distraction, quickly turned back to the table and picked up the paperweight. Suddenly there was a shake in his body, and he turned back towards Lupin just in time to see the bright smile on his face. "Bye," he mouthed, and then everything went black.

_What about my books? _Harry thought, and then he knew. The paperweight was a portkey. 

Harry was jerked and pulled, spun and twisted. He held on tight to his luggage through the whole process of being transported via a portkey. Suddenly the jerking and twisting stopped and Harry was surrounded by light. A loud horn sounded near him, and Harry looked up to see a beautiful, crimson train, The Hogwarts Express.

_Leave it to wizards to pull a trick like that, _Harry thought, smiling. He missed Lupin already.

"HARRY!" came a loud cry from behind him. Harry turned and saw his two best friends in the world running towards him. Hermione and Ron, smiles covering their faces. Both were closely followed by Ginny, Ron's little sister, a fifth year. Harry smiled back…his friends were here!

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry said, receiving a warm hug from Hermione who had reached him first. 

Ron pat Harry on the back, "You look exactly the same, mate," he said.

"Oh, no he doesn't," Ginny said sweetly, coming up and holding her arms out for a hug once Hermione had let go of her death grip upon him. Surprised, Harry moved in and gave her a hug as well. "He looks much more mature and manly."

"Uh…thanks," Harry said taken aback, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. 

"Your welcome," Ginny managed with a smile, before Hermione broke out talking.

"Oh, Harry! We missed you so much! You have no idea how great things are going over at" and now she lowered her voice, "the Order."

"Well, I know, and I honestly bet Harry doesn't care," Ron said while looking at Hedwig's empty cage. "You, er, do know that there isn't an owl in that cage, Harry," he said.

Harry was busy nodding at Hermione and he turned to look at Ron was talking about. Before he could answer, however, his eyes caught on Draco Malfoy, who's white hair was glinting annoyingly in the sunlight. Malfoy was Harry's least favorite schoolmate. He was part of Slytherin house, which was widely believed to be the most evil of the four school houses. He was leaning against the Hogwarts Express, with his large empty-headed friends, Crabbe and Goyle, by his side talking to a girl Harry had never seen before. She looked about Harry's age, had long brown hair, and dark sparkling eyes that could be seen from a distance. 

Hermione caught Harry staring and said, "Malfoy's probably going to be just as awful this year, Harry. Don't think too much about him, he's a waste of your time."

Ron and Ginny nodded in agreement.

"Huh?" Harry asked confused, then understood. "Oh, right, well, after what I did to his father, I'd expect him to be five times as awful, but I can handle it."

"Sure you can, Harry," Ron said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You can handle _anything_."

"Oh, stop." Ginny said, hitting her brother. "What do you say we get on the train before all of the first-years take the good seats?"

"Sounds good to me," Hermione said, turning towards the train. Harry, Ron, and Ginny followed. On his way into the train, Harry saw Malfoy nodding toward him and the new girl turn his way. He was in the train before he could read the expression on her face, though he was sure, if she was a friend of Malfoy, it wasn't going to be a pleasant one.


	5. A New Idea

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series.. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.

A New Idea

Making their way down a corridor, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron found an empty box where they could all fit. Harry sat down closest to the window and Ginny sat next to him. He didn't fail to notice the way Ron and Hermione instinctively sat next to one another. He decided against bringing it up.

"You've grown so much," Hermione said to Harry, leaning towards him, an appraising look on her face.

"I suppose so," Harry said, "sometimes that happens." Hermione had changed too, she had gotten slimmer, her face looked stronger, her body looked…Harry looked away and felt himself blush. He didn't want to think about _Hermione's body_. That just crossed some boundaries that shouldn't be crossed – ever. When he looked back he noted that her hair had become more silky looking and less of a mess. He made sure to focus only on her hair.

Ron had changed too. He was now broader in the shoulders, resembling his brother Charlie, who the girls all thought was very handsome (Harry never understood girls much). His hair was as red as ever, which was the trademark of all the Weasley children. Ginny too had long red hair that had grown passed her shoulders over the holiday, she looked more mature too…

_No!_ Harry chided himself mentally. _Do not look at Ginny or Hermione like that! It's not right!_

"I'm so glad to see you Harry," Hermione said, not taking her eyes away from him. "I've really missed you a lot."

"Jeez, Hermione, get over him alright? I'm not going to let you move into the boy's dormitory just so you can be around Harry more! Although I'm sure Neville and Semus would enjoy that… " Ron said, pounding his fist against his hand.

"Oh, shut up, Ron! I'm not being crazy…I just haven't seen him in so long."

"It's alright Hermione, lots of girls get a little obsessive when they're around me. It's completely normal, really," Harry said, smiling. He was feeling very much at ease being back with his friends. He belonged here. 

Ginny snorted next too him. _"Suure,"_ Harry heard her whisper.

"Hey!" He said, sounding as hurt as he could without laughing. "I also hear that girls who deny their feelings toward men like me--," but Harry couldn't finish his sentence because right then the door to their box opened up and revealed Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood standing behind it.

"Oh," Neville said. "Sorry, this looks pretty full." He waved at Harry while starting to close the door.

"Nonsense!" Ginny yelled. "There's plenty of room for both of you. Besides, Hermione and Ron were just about to leave to go to their prefects meeting," she said kicking Ron in the shins.

"Ow! I mean –yeah, we were just leaving. You guys can take a seat.," Ron said getting up so he and Hermione could leave. "We'll be back in a few minutes, Harry. If the food trolley comes by make sure--," but he couldn't finish his sentence either, because Hermione had pushed him out of the door and closed it behind them while muttering, "You don't need more candy," under her breath.

Harry turned back towards Neville and Luna. "Hey, guys. How was your holiday?" He asked.

Neville answered quickly, "Oh the usual stuff happened. My grandma's paranoid about Voldemort as usual, so she basically locked me up the whole summer. I didn't get to see one Quidditch game!"

"Oh, Neville," Luna said in her dreamy voice. "If you spent time reading like you should, you would have seen in _The Quibbler_ that all of the Quidditch games where complete scams. The players are just uniforms that have been charmed into growing a head and riding around on brooms. My dad did a special report on it last month," Luna added. Luna's dad owned _The Quibbler,_ a publication that was largely considered a joke in the wizarding world. Luna was largely considered crazy.

"Hmm…that's interesting, Luna," Harry said. 

"Yes, I just can't wait to find out how Dumbledore is going to survive the backlash from the big switch he's pulling on Hogwarts this year," Luna said. "My father said he wasn't sure if it would work in the first place."

Neville and Ginny both seemed to nod politely, as people sometimes do when they don't want to insult a lunatic.

"What do you mean, Luna?" Harry asked. He hadn't heard of a "switch" at Hogwarts…what did she mean?

"Oh, Harry, I suppose you wouldn't have heard seeing as you live with non-magical peoples." ("In last months issue, Luna's father wrote an editorial on how "muggle" was not a word at all. And those wizards who do say it are in fact saying nothing," Ginny whispered.) "But last month there was a front-page story on how Professor Dumbledore is going to switch all of the Hogwarts students houses to promote school unity. It was very well received, we got many letters of thanks for writing such a good piece."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or just stare dumbfounded at Luna. What was she talking about? Dumbledore wouldn't do anything like that. Switching everyone's houses would destroy the school, not unite it. The idea was ridiculous, and Harry gave it very little merit considering, of course, that it was from _The Quibbler._

"Ah, well, that sounds neat." Harry said, for lack of anything better.

"Yes, I hope I get put into a house with Ron," Luna said lightly, and this time Ginny could not hold in her laughter. She quickly recovered and tried to cover her outburst as a cough.

"Are you getting sick, Ginny?" Luna asked. Ginny just shook her head.

There was a long moment of silence as Harry turned his head and looked out the window. He could see the landscape pass him by, the beautiful scenery that he had seen every year that he had ridden the Hogwarts express. His mind traveled back to the girl he had seen with Malfoy outside of the train. He had no clue who she was. Harry knew most of the people who went to Hogwarts - and he certainly knew all of the Slytherins because they were always belittling (or trying to) everyone who wasn't one of them. 

The girl had looked so new to him, he couldn't understand why she was on the Platform. Was she a student at Hogwarts? Was she new? Maybe, Harry thought, she was just a friend of Malfoy's. Just a friend who had come to see him off to school. But then Harry remembered her eyes, and how he could see them so clearly from a distance. There was something about this girl…

The door to the compartment opened and Ron and Hermione entered again. They were arguing about something, which was a favorite pastime, and Harry didn't pay it much attention. Ginny slid over so Ron could sit next to her, Hermione sat between Neville and Luna. 

"How did the _prefect_ meeting go?" Neville asked putting emphasis on "prefect," they way Harry remembered Ron's twin trouble-maker brother's sometimes did.

"Oh, stop, Neville." Hermione said. 

"It went swell, thanks," Ron said defensively. His brothers had berated him enough, so he knew how to defend himself against such remarks. "We have just been given the power to give detentions out simply because we feel like giving them out. And just now I feel like giving one out to you, Neville…"

"Grow up, Ron," Hermione said. Throwing a random piece of parchment at him. "We have not been given that duty, and if we had been, we certainly wouldn't use it so freely."

"Oh, of course," Ron said and picked up the paper Hermione had tossed at him "Ahh…so these are Hermione's O.W.Ls, are they? Well, let's see," Ron looked up and down the paper, "As I would have guessed, nearly all O's. Pathetic as usual."

"You're just jealous, Ron," Ginny said smiling.

"Am not." He said. "I am very content with my five O.W.Ls. I did better than I thought I would."

"I think you even surprised your mom too," Hermione grinned. "She didn't stop smiling at you for days. You did much better than George or Fred did."

"I almost got as much as the two of them combined!" Ron said.

"Good job, Ron ," Neville chirped in. "I got five O.W.Ls as well. I even got an A in Potions." Neville was notoriously bad at Potions; Snape was especially evil to him. Hermione had always helped Neville out with his mixtures, which had gotten them both in trouble more than once.

"Oh good job!" Hermione yelled. She looked over at Harry who had been a very quiet observer, and asked, "What about you Harry?"

"Six O.W.Ls." he said, purposely failing to mention that one of them had obviously been under much debate.

A chorus of "congratulations," and "wonderful," came from the other five in the room. Harry smiled and nodded politely. He just couldn't shake the thoughts of the girl who had stood next to Malfoy.

            "Oh, we're slowing down!" Ginny said straightening up. "We better get our robes on. We'll be at Hogwarts soon." 

"Oh good! I just can't wait for the feast…" Ron said excitedly. And so, Harry's ride on the Hogwarts Express ended.

Stepping off of the train, Harry looked around. He felt the night air rush past his face, and heard a familiar voice boom over the hustling crowd. "Firs' years over here! Firs' years…" Hagrid. Hagrid, a man who was half-giant by birth, was right back where he should be, calling the first years to line up so he could take them across the lake. Last year, Hagrid had been missing from his usual duties, and it turned out that he had been in the mountains cavorting with giants…

"Harry, we've got to supervise this mess, okay? I'll see you on the carriage and save me a seat!" Ron screamed at Harry while running towards a group of second years who where tripping over each other trying to get off of the train.

"Okay," Harry said back, but was unsure whether or not Ron heard. Hermione would be helping Ron and the other prefects supervise, so Harry turned and looked for Neville, Luna and Ginny, whom he had lost in the race to get off of the train. He didn't see them, however, and while looking his eyes caught upon Malfoy and that girl, stepping off the train. Malfoy was grasping her hand lightly and leading her towards the carriages, she followed behind him laughing at something. Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle brought up there rear. Who was this new girl that Malfoy had taken such a liking to?

"Well, come on, Harry! We can't save this seat for you forever!" Harry turned toward where he had heard his name yelled and saw Neville waving at him holding open a door to one of the carriages. 

"Ah, thanks, Neville," Harry said walking swiftly up to the door with his luggage in tow. "Did you save a seat for Hermione and Ron too?"

"Sure did, now get in!" Neville said, gesturing Harry inside. "I'll hold your luggage for you."  
            "Thanks." Harry stepped through the door. Inside the carriage, he saw Luna and Ginny talking about something frantically and gesturing wildly.  Harry grabbed his luggage from Neville, seated himself, and tried very hard to pay attention to what Ginny was saying. He failed miserably. Within moments Harry heard Neville yell, "Hermione! Ron! We've got you two seats over here!"

Harry peeked out the window to see Hermione and Ron run up to the carriage, luggage trailing behind them. Suddenly, they stopped and seemed to quickly draw in a long breath.

"Wow," Ron said.

"They're beautiful," Hermione added. "They look just as I thought they would."

Harry was confused for a moment - and then understood. 

The thestrals. 

Thestrals were the horse-like creatures that flew the carriages to Hogwarts every year. The amazing thing about thestrals was that a person could not see them unless they had witnessed someone die. Harry had first seen them last year, after he had seen Cedric Diggory die. Neville and Luna had been the only other students he knew could see the too. But Ron and Hermione could see them now because they had witnessed Sirius die. Sadly, Harry wished that they weren't able to see them still, seeing the thestrals wasn't worth witnessing the death of a person.

"They must be looking at the Thestrals," Luna whispered to Ginny.

"Come on you two," Neville said from outside of the door, ushering them along. "We need to get going, really."

Hermione and Ron entered the carriage and both looked at Harry with wide eyes. Harry nodded and told them to sit down. A wave of guilt and misery washed over him – it was his fault that they had witnessed Sirius die. 

"They were so cool!" Ron said. "I see the thestrals now!"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said, sensing Harry's sadness. 

"You aren't a lunatic Harry! They are real!" Ron continued.  
            "RON! SIT DOWN!" Hermione screamed. The carriage started to move, and Ron plopped down on his seat. The thestrals took off, flying in the air.

"Next stop: Hogwarts and the beginning of a new year." Neville said, with a hint of a sigh lingering in his voice. Harry, in a newly saddened mood, couldn't blame him.

Every year, all of the students and staff of Hogwarts met in the Great Hall to greet the first years and have a grand feast. This, Harry always thought, was one of Ron's favorite moments at Hogwarts. There was butterbeer and pumpkin juice, sandwiches and stews of all sorts. The start-of-term feast was certainly one to look forward too. 

While walking into the enchanted Great Hall through the large double doors, which Harry figured could never be broken, Harry was quite sure that he heard Ron whine to Hermione about having to "watch the little first-year buggars put on the old smelly hat" before he could eat. Harry laughed aloud, earning glances from several other students. 

Last year, the other students had regarded Harry as somewhat of a joke, this year they all seemed to admire him ("Once again," Neville whispered, "All is right with the world."). As he walked to the front of the his house table, Harry noticed Colin Creevey and Parvati Patil, two fellow Gryffindors, wave at him, he smiled and nodded back.  Harry, Hermione and Ron sat near the head of the Gryffindor table, while Ginny wandered off towards the back to meet up with a few of her friends who had beckoned her to join them, (while simultaneously smiling at Harry).

"It's good to be back, isn't it Harry?" Ron asked, throwing his legs over one of the benches that lined the table.

"Oh, yeah." Answered Harry, "It's good to be here."

"I'm just disappointed that we never get any fresh meat around here, if you know what I mean" Dean Thomas, a fellow Gryffindor sixth year, said to Harry. At the same time eating some candy he had stored in his pocket. Harry glanced at Ron, who was watching Dean eat with great interest. He had no idea what Dean meant.

"What'd you mean?" Ron said, staring as Dean picked up a chocolate frog and stuck it in his mouth.

Dean Thomas swallowed the frog, then licked his fingers and said, "Oh you know, Ron. No fresh meat – no new _girls_ to see…" He trailed off.

"Oh! Of course! Yeah, no fresh meat, right." Ron said, nodding widely. "Too bad indeed."

"Oh, please, you two. That's disgusting," Hermione broke in. "If either of you ever managed to charm a girl with that attitude, I'd be very surprised." Harry noticed that this comment received a slight flashing look from Ron, which disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Hogwarts students were coming through the double doors less frequently now, which usually signified the first years were about to arrive. Harry turned his head towards the teachers table to see who had returned from the summer, and who hadn't. Headmaster Professor Dumbledore was at the center of the table, as usual, talking to Professor McGonagall, who was Harry's Transfiguration teacher as well as Head of Gryffindor House. Harry's Charms professor, Filius Flitwick, was there as well, sitting next to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. Professor Binns, a ghost, sat next to Pomona Sprout and Madam Hooch. At the far right end of the table sat Professor Snape, Harry's least favorite teacher. _Too bad he's still alive, _Harry found himself thinking. 

Snape, a greasy black haired man, had once been a follower of Lord Voldemort, but apparently he had deserted his fellow Death Eaters and had become a spy for Dumbledore. Harry didn't trust him, but Dumbledore did, which would have to suffice. Snape had never gone easy on Harry, and would often purposefully ruin Harry's class work. While thinking back to the memory he had witnessed through the Pensive, Harry didn't much blame him.

Harry saw Hagrid walk into the Great Hall through the teacher's back door and sit down at the table in his usual seat. Hagrid was the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, much to the dismay of Malfoy and his gang. While scanning the table one last time, Harry was quite surprised to see no one sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts seat. This particular position had always been hard to fill, but the seat had never been empty when school started. Harry wondered if the Headmaster had found anyone at all?

"I wonder who's going to fill that seat?" Hermione whispered, as if she had read Harry's mind.

"Dunno," Ron said.

Parvati came down the table and said "hi" to Harry, smiling foolishly. Harry greeted her in return.

"I just wanted to say that the Sorting Hat ceremony will probably be starting soon," she said in a sweet voice. 

"Oh good," Ron said touching his hand to his stomach.

"Yeah….." Parvati trailed off, looking at Ron with a slight pinch in her face. "Well, I was also just talking to Colin, and he said that he saw Malfoy walking around with a strange girl. He said he hadn't seen her here before. Have any of you seen her?"

Harry had. "Yeah, I noticed her earlier at the Platform," he said, trying to sound as if he hadn't been wondering about who she was for the past two hours.

Ron and Hermione looked at him – they saw through the act.

Parvati failed to notice, "Oh, you did, Harry? Well, Colin said that she was pretty good looking, and I don't really know if I can trust him, you know, since he dated that foul looking girl over the summer. Can any of you _believe_ she actually won that beauty contest?" Parvati paused, waiting for an answer. "Well, I can't," she said when she received none. She turned back to Harry, "So, what did you think of her?"

Harry was very taken aback. He had not expected to have to answer a question like this; he had never been asked his opinion on a girl before. "Uh, well, she had….nice hair," was all he could manage.

Ron looked intrigued, while Hermione broke out laughing over his answer.

"Nice hair?" Parvati said, looking a bit worried. "How nice?"

"Erm…" Harry said awkwardly. How nice was her hair?! 

"Oh, spare him, Parvati," Hermione managed between giggles. "He has no clue."

"Hmph," Parvati said, looking towards the Slytherin table. 'Oh, that must be her!" She exclaimed suddenly, pointing towards the table. "There next to Malfoy!" Harry and Ron's heads turned immediately, searching for the new girl. "She's not _that_ pretty," Parvati said, still sounding very worried. She then stocked off back to Colin.

Surely enough, Harry saw the same girl he had on the Platform and holding Malfoy's hand coming off of the train sitting at the Slytherin table. She was surrounded by Slytherins, and was talking as if telling a very engaging tale. Her hands moved elegantly, as she wove the story, while her eyes, which could be seen from a great distance, darted from face to face drawing every listener in. Draco Malfoy sat right beside her, his hand around her waist, smiling proudly. 

"Wow," Ron said, his eyes still on the girl, "She has very pretty," he stopped abruptly, turning back to Hermione, "hair."

"Sure," Hermione said, staring blankly ahead. And then added, 'So Harry, do you want to stop drooling?" It took a moment for her snide remark (which was unusual for Hermione) to register, but Harry slowly turned back around and smiled sheepishly. Hermione slowly opened her mouth to comment, but stopped when the lines of first years began to enter the Great Hall.

The first years always looked so small to Harry, and he could never quite accept that he had been that small once too, six years ago. The first years walked down the aisle separating the table of Slytherin and Ravenclaw from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. They stopped once they became even with the head of the house tables and waited as Professor McGonagall stood up and produced a raggedy old hat from seemingly nowhere, then set it on a stool right in front of the staff's table.

The Sorting Hat. A rip near the hat's brim opened wide, revealing a mouth-like shape, and the hat began to – talk.

"Ahem," said the hat, oddly reminiscent of Professor Umbridge, which made many students and teachers flinch, "I am the Sorting Hat, and it is here, perched upon this stool, where I usually sing a song describing our four great founders, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw." The students were looking at each other; surprised that the hat had broken its long tradition of singing. Many of the staff looked equally surprised, but Professor Dumbledore remained silent and attentive, all of his attention on the hat. "I am not to do that this year. For this year, there will be some changes." Again, loud whispers erupted among the students. Harry looked toward Hermione and Ron who were both staring wide-mouthed at the hat. 

"I was here when the school was founded. I was witness to the friendship between all four founders. They were great friends at first – not enemies – who all had a common goal: to start the greatest wizarding school in the world. They succeeded, but each had different qualities that they deemed every student should have. Slytherin wanted ambitious and pure, Gryffindor preferred honorable and brave, Ravenclaw sought the intelligent sand logical, Hufflepuff would have taken all. So, to settle the dispute of which students to accept, the founders created me, and gave me the voice to place each individual student in the house that fit them best. Soon after, the founders split apart then died, and it was I who was left to realize that this method of "sorting" would divide us all. However, I continued to sort students, as I had been created to do. Until this year," the Sorting Hat paused, and Harry noticed that the first year students were beginning to look a little worried.

"I will not be sorting students this year. It is time, that we realize that we are not a school with students separated into four houses, but instead we are a school with students here to learn – in more ways than one many times.

"So, now, Professor McGonagall, you may take me back to sit upon Dumbledore's shelf. Thank you." Slowly, and unsurely Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and walked back over to the stool. She picked up the Sorting Hat and walked back through the door to the teacher's room. The Hall was silent. 

Then Dumbledore rose from his seat as well, his silver-blue robes shining and his long white beard cascading down his front, and began to speak. "This past holiday," he began, "I had the opportunity to do a lot of thinking." Harry doubted this very highly, he was quite sure that this past summer had been very busy for Dumbledore. "I thought about a great many things, and about a good deal of people," Harry saw Dumbledore's eyes slide to him, then away again. "I talked with many people about the choice I have been forced to make, and most to agree that it is indeed a necessary decision." Dumbledore paused to take a breath. After setting down his glass of water, his booming voice again filled the Great Hall. "The Sorting Hat spoke true. Students will not be sorted into the four houses this year. If fact, there will be no houses this year."

Suddenly, talk erupted amongst the students. _No houses? _Hermione and Ron gasped. Neville blinked rapidly. Harry was not quite sure how to react_. There must be houses! How else was the school going to be divided?_ And then Harry understood….the school wasn't supposed to be _divided_ at all. It was supposed to be united. 

Harry turned to Hermione. "It's the division," he said, and he saw the spark of understanding in Hermione's eyes as well. 

"There will be no houses this year," Dumbledore said again. "And since there will be no houses, there will be no need of the house tables." Dumbledore clapped his hands once and the table that had been right in front of Harry suddenly disappeared. The Gryffindor table was gone! Harry looked around and saw that indeed, all of the long tables that had sat in the Great Hall had disappeared. What was going on? Screams shot through the great hall.

There was a loud thump and Dean Thomas turned towards Harry and said, "Lisa Turpin was sitting on one of the tables when Dumbledore made them vanish!"

"What is happening?" Ron asked urgently. "Has Dumbledore gone mad?"

"No," Hermione answered, "He's just trying to unite us all."

"How by taking away the tables? Is eating on the floor going to unite us?"

"No, Ron! Calm down, and let him explain!"

"I'm sorry, students. I know this doesn't make much sense, nor is it much fun. However, with the changing of times, certain changes must be made here as well," Dumbledore said over the noise. "Voldemort is back." This certainly quieted the hall. "He is back, and he is no longer hiding. If we, as a school, are divided and thus, weak, we may fail. We are not as safe as we once were. So, please, students, try to accept the changes. You may not like them, but they are for the best. Now, hold onto your seats please." Harry looked toward the bench he was sitting on. What did Dumbledore mean? He held his legs together and grabbed the bench, holding on tightly. _"RUMPERESI!" _Dumbledore cried through the hall, his wand raised high. Immediately, the benches began to crack, separating student from student. Splintering wood was heard throughout the hall. Now, instead of eight long benches in the hall, there were hundreds of small planks of wood each holding a single Hogwarts student. The first years were somehow sitting on planks as well, even though they had not been sitting on a bench in the first place. Noise filed the hall, a combination of talking and screams of surprise. 

Harry looked to the ground. His seat was being levitated, or held up by some invisible force.

"Harry," Hermione asked, "What is going on?"

"I have no idea, Hermione," Harry rushed, "You're the bright one."

"Well, she didn't see this one coming, did she?" Ron sneered.

Dumbledore's voice raised high again. "_Capereia_" he exclaimed. All of the students rose slowly towards the bewitched ceiling of Hogwarts, they were nearly twenty feet off of the ground before they stopped rising. 

Harry looked toward the teacher's table. All of the teachers were now standing with their wands raised. They were all participating in a very large spell, it seemed. All except for Hagrid, who stood to the side of the rest of the teachers. Hagrid, Harry remembered, was not, strictly speaking, allowed to perform magic. _"Tablieum!" _The professors spoke in unison. Harry's gaze darted to the ground below him where he witnessed the four long house table's reappear in the hall. He looked towards Hermione and Ron who had risen to the ceiling next to him. He gave them a confused look, one which they returned.

"Why go through all of this, if they're just going to give us the tables back?" Ron asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but was jolted backwards before she could answer. Hermione and her piece of bench flew towards the third table from the left wall, what had once been the Ravenclaw table.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, trying to reach for her.

"HERMIONE!" Ron screamed, nearly toppling off of his bench grasping after her. Their screams where not heard, however, because they were drowned out by the screams of other Hogwarts students. "Lisa!" "Michael!" "Susan!" "Blaise!" "Neville!" were amongst the names Harry heard being called. Harry's head darted from side to side as he saw dozens of students flying toward the Ravenclaw table. Once they reached the table, their planks of wood were suddenly transformed into different colored chairs, and set down neatly on the floor. 

Hermione's piece of wood – now turned a bright red chair – was set down lightly near the head of the table. She looked up at Harry and Ron and nodded her head. "They're switching us," she mouthed.

Ron turned to Harry, and said (while students were still flying towards the Hufflepuff table) "They're switching us? What does that mean?"

"Look, Ron!" Harry screamed over the noise, "They're switching all of our houses!" He pointed toward the table, and Ron followed his finger. "Hermione and Neville and Dennis Creevey are all Gryffindors, but now their sitting at a table with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and SLYTHERINS! They're switching us all around!"

The Great Hall was filled with noise. Right when the Hufflepuff table started to look very full, more students were jerked from their places in the air and brought back down towards the next table. The old Gryffindor table. 

"The Gryffindor table!" Ron shouted. He and Harry instinctively grabbed on to their seats, clutching tighter in case they were about to be jerked toward the ground. "Ginny!" Ron yelled as he saw his sister fly towards the table. 

"Look, Draco's at that table too!" Harry yelled, pointing at the flailing Draco being hurtled downwards. "Not very suave, though." He muttered.

"Parvati!" Lavender Brown, a fellow Gryffindor, yelled as Parvati Patil hurtled toward the ground. 

"Same thing's happening with that table too then," Ron screamed towards Harry. The noise was still unbearable. "The teacher's are rearranging our houses."

Harry looked down towards the teachers table. They were all standing very still and erect. _Why are the doing this_? He asked himself, getting very angry. _This is torture…something Umbridge would have pulled!_  Half of the students were now sitting in brightly colored chairs surrounding the two middle tables of the room, while the other half of the student population were still floating in the air. 

Harry turned suddenly as he saw Ron jerk away from him. "Ron!" He yelled, watching him fall toward the table toward the farthest left table of the room, the old Hufflepuff table. Dozens of others followed, including, Harry noticed, Luna Lovegood and Crabbe and Goyle. Ron's old bench piece turned into a bright green chair as he was set next to Luna near the middle of the table. 

Harry glanced around and saw that only one fourth of the students remained floating in the air, and there was only one table left where they could all go…

Harry felt himself being jerked downwards, he was headed to the center of the final table: the Slytherin table. He felt his piece of bench morph into a semi-comfortable chair and he looked down to see that it was black. Harry hadn't seen anyone else's bench turn into a black chair _Yet another thing that makes me stand out,_ he thought cynically. His body jumped as his chair hit the ground. The rest of the chairs that were in the air came flying down to the table as well. Some flew towards the head of the table, others flew toward the back of it. Some landed right next to Harry. 

He noticed Terry Boot of Ravenclaw land near him on a bright pink chair, then Owen Cauldwell from Hufflepuff sat across from him. Jan Stark and Raymond Myers both from Ravenclaw sat down at his table as well. There were two first years, whom Harry didn't know, and many other people who Harry had never before talked to in his life. Harry looked up and down the Slytherin table where he now sat, there was not a single Gryffindor, save himself. _What?_ Thought Harry angrily, _But all of the other tables had Gryffindors!_ Harry didn't know anyone at this table. Even the Slytherins, whom he had known because they were always ruining his days, he hardly knew. Millicent Bullstrode and Graham Pritchard, both Slytherins, he only knew by name. This was awful!

Harry looked up and saw that all of the students had now been _re-sorted_ and where down from the ceiling. He looked expectantly at Dumbledore. _He's going to say that this is all a joke. _Most of the other student's heads were turned towards Professor Dumbledore as well. 

Dumbledore, and the rest of the teachers, were still standing completely still and erect. They looked very grand, and if Harry wasn't so angry at them for doing what they just had, he's be in great awe of them. Slowly, Dumbledore opened his eyes; a gesture followed soon by the rest of the teachers, and sat down. From this position he spoke loudly, although Harry noticed he was obviously exhausted. "Students," he said. "These are fellow students of Hogwarts whom you may or may not know. You will stay with these people and get to know them, for you are going to be learning with them as well. Please be open minded about this change, it is an important one." Dumbledore paused and looked over the Great Hall with a sweeping glance. "Now, you may eat." Suddenly, and like every year before, food appeared on the table. A great feast filled with anything a young wizard could want. But Harry wasn't hungry, and as he searched for Ron and Hermione's face through the crowd he saw them waving him toward the double doors of the Great Hall. Harry slowly got up, and walked past the other Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins that now populated his new table to meet Hermione and Ron. 

"Hey," he said when he reached them.

"Hey," they both said back.


	6. Larine Avolare

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series.. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.

Chapter 6: Larine Avolare 

            Harry and his two best friends left the Great Hall silently, not wanting to attract attention to themselves. They stepped lightly on the stone floors of the Hogwarts Castle and headed towards the second level girls bathroom. They didn't need to tell each other where to go – they knew instinctively where the most private place in Hogwarts was. 

            The three friends had spent a lot of time in this particular girls bathroom. During Harry's first year, they had defeated a large troll in the bathroom, quite a feat for first-timers. In their second year, they had mixed a batch of Polyjuice Potion within the large room, and had also found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets under one of the sink fixtures. The reason the room was so deserted was because of a ghost that often resided in the pipes of the bathroom – Moaning Myrtle she was called. 

            Moaning Myrtle had once been a student at Hogwarts, but had been killed there when the heir of Slytherin had opened the Chamber of Secrets and released the Basilisk upon the school. Now, Myrtle just sat in the pipes and wailed – no current student at Hogwarts wanted to hear that while going about their "private" business.

So, the second the silent trio entered the bathroom and shut the door, they no longer saw reason not to talk, and began talking all at once. 

"Can you believe this!" Ron said.

"Neville and I are so upset about this whole thing," Hermione complained.

"Oh, well at least _you've_ got someone to be upset with, there is not a single Gryffindor at my table." Harry said stalking about the room.

"And Ginny is in the same table as Draco! Mum's going to love hearing that!" 

"Well, I do think Dumbledore went about this the wrong way."  
            "And to think that a story about this was published in _The Quibbler_ last month!"

"Yeah, Luna mentioned that. No one can blame anybody for not taking what was written there as complete lunacy though."

"There has to be some logical reason for this despite the necessary "being united," stuff they're feeding us."

"And how did they choose where to place us in the first place! Did they just pick us randomly while we were vulnerable up in the air?"

"I can't believe there are no Gryffindors at my table! I'm surrounded by Slytherins and Hufflepuffs!"

"Oh, god forbid!"

"Wait, you two!" Hermione said, commanding Harry and Ron's attention immediately. "We need to think about this calmly if we expect any answers, alright?" 

"Right," Harry and Ron said in unison. Harry took out his wand, which he had stashed inside his robe, and gave it three small flicks. Three chairs appeared out of no where next to Harry, Hermione and Ron. Harry paused and looked at his wand confused. Had _he_ just made three chairs appear from _his_ wand? Harry looked up at Hermione and Ron looking for confirmation. They stared blankly at him, until Ron spoke.

"Harry, you know you just made three chairs appear," he started slowly.

"Yeah, I uh noticed that I guess," Harry said, and then carefully walked in front of the chair that had appeared nearest to him and sat down gingerly, testing it to make sure it didn't disappear as quickly as it had come. The chair was solid.

"Well done, Harry!" Hermione said, looking rather relieved that the chair held, "That must be a pretty advanced flick you gave your wand." She too, took a seat in her comfortable-looking chair; Ron sat down in his.

"Right," Ron said, trying to situate himself, "So where do we start?"

"Well, I suppose we should start with the most general question: Why? Why did Dumbledore and The Sorting Hat decide to switch all of our houses?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, The Sorting Hat said it was because we are stronger united. When we were separated in our separate Houses, it was as if we were all competing within Hogwarts. I suppose that, seeing how things are changed now," Harry added cautiously, "Dumbledore thought to give us the 'ol switch-a-roo. This way, we could realize we are not four competing Houses, but instead one unified school." 

"Yes, Harry, that's what I thought as well," Hermione said, sounding a bit surprised. Harry looked to Ron, to see his reaction.

            "Ron?" Harry asked. Ron had a sour expression on his face.

"Ginny's been put in the same house as that git Malfoy…the bas-"

"RON!" Hermione screamed, lightly slapping his arm. "Let's just stay on topic, please."

"Well," Ron said, his expression still not changed, "Why did they put her with him? Why didn't they just kick all of the Slytherins out on the streets? They're all awful and soon-to-be Death Eaters."

"Oh come on Ron. This is what Dumbledore and The Sorting Hat were talking about. We are classmates with the Slytherins, we shouldn't be judging them all based upon Malfoy."

"Oh, I'm not judging them based upon Malfoy alone. Pansy Parkinson….Crabbe….Goyle….Marcus Flint….oh yeah, hey, did I mention a little known Slytherin named Tom Riddle!?"

"Ron…" Hermione said, becoming annoyed.

"I bet that new Slytherin girl's really evil. She and Malfoy seemed pretty close. They probably share their dark secrets with each other every night while they're-"

"Ron…" Hermione said, clearly passing annoyed and becoming upset.

"Sure, she has nice hair - among other things - but that's just the type that's evil and malicious-"

"Ron, shut up." Harry said. He was very disturbed at Ron's ramblings. Were the new girl and Malfoy close like Ron thought they were? Harry quickly shook his head, causing his untidy hair to become even messier. He didn't know why he cared so much about this girl he didn't even know. Why should he care if she's seeing Malfoy?

"Yeah, Ron," Hermione said, with a hint of hurt in her voice that surprised Harry enough that he was shaken out of his own thoughts. Harry glanced at Hermione, who was looking intently at him. "Harry, I saw that that girl was placed at your table. Do you know who she is?"

"Uh…no. No, I didn't get to talk to her I mean. I didn't even know she was at my table." Harry's heart jumped. Would he be able to get to know this new girl? Again, surprised at his thoughts, he shook his head, hoping to clear them.

"Hmm." Hermione said. "Well, I suppose Ron brought up a somewhat valid point, asking why we were all sorted into the Houses – er, tables, we were."

"I got the old Hufflepuff table." Ron whined. "Hufflepuff! They were never interesting at all."

"I got Ravenclaw's table," Hermione said, half to herself. "And Harry got Slytherin."

"Ha, that's interesting, Hermione." Harry said. "When I was originally sorted, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me into Slytherin. I had to beg to get out of that house."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you beg to get out of Slytherin? You had only known you were a wizard for a for a few days. Why would you not want to be Slytherin?" Hermione asked, suddenly very interested.

Harry tried to remember back to his first day at Hogwarts. The Hall had seemed so big…everything had seemed so big back then. "Ron had told me that all of the bad wizards had been in Slytherin. I had just discovered what – who had had killed my parents. I didn't want to be placed in the same house as the bad wizards." Harry smiled as he thought of how simple it had seemed only six years ago: good wizards and bad wizards.

"Oh,' Hermione said, looking a little disappointed. Then her eyes suddenly squinted, as if she had just thought of something brilliant. "Do you remember, Harry, how last year people kept saying that I should have been put in Ravenclaw?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "That's because you're really smart and logical and all of that. The Sorting Hat always said that Rowena Ravenclaw wanted wizards of great intelligence." 

"Right!" Hermione said. 'And the Hat also said that Slytherin wanted wizards who where ambitious and cunning."

Harry nodded, and then added, "And Hufflepuff would have accepted any wizard as long as they were willing to learn. Her students didn't have to be incredibly cunning, or intelligent, or brave…" And then Harry grasped what Hermione had already figured out and they both turned to look slowly at Ron. 

Ron stared back at them blankly. "What?" He asked, looking at both of his friends.

"We've been sorted into our second-choice houses," Harry said slowly. "The tables where we were placed today are the tables where we would have sat, had we not been put in our first house!" 

Ron still stared at Harry blankly.

"Don't you see?" Hermione pleaded with Ron. "The Sorting Hat wanted to place Harry in Slytherin, but instead he placed him in Gryffindor. Now Harry had been re-sorted into the Slytherin table. I was sorted in to Gryffindor too, but some people think that because of my…" Hermione trailed off.

"Go on, say it. 'Because of your extreme intelligence.'" Harry said imitating Hermione.

"Well, okay, because of my sense of logical reasoning, some people say I should have been sorted into Ravenclaw. When we were assigned our new tables today, I was assigned Ravenclaw's old one!"  
            Ron's eyes widened, as if he understood, and then he said, in a very cynical voice, "And I was placed in Hufflepuff today, because I'm not good at anything?! That's where I'd be if I weren't sorted into Gryffindor? The house for the poor wizards who aren't ambitious, or smart, or brave?!"

"No!" Hermione said. "No one thinks that about Hufflepuff!"

"Well…" Harry said trailing off, a smirk on his face. Inside however, he felt a little bad for Ron. It always seemed that Ron got the worst of each situation. Harry had always wanted to see Ron glowing in his own light. Harry had always wanted something special to happen to Ron. And here Ron was, discovering that if he weren't in Gryffindor, he's be in Hufflepuff – the joke house of Hogwarts.

"Thanks, mate." Ron said, shooting Harry a disgusted look.

"Now, come on Harry. Grow up. Ron, no one thinks you're not brave or smart or ambitious. We think you're very smart and brave! And cunning!" Hermione said to Ron. "And besides, these are not the houses we were chosen for. We were all chosen for Gryffindor. We are all Gryffindors. I'm not a Ravenclaw, you're not a Hufflepuff-"

"And, I'm certainly not a Slytherin!" Harry piped in, fuming.

"Exactly." Hermione said. "So, now that we know why they did this whole thing, and why we were sorted where we have been, there are only a few more questions."

"How long does this last?" Ron asked.

"Right," said Harry. "How long must I be surrounded by the enemy?" He couldn't get over the fact that he was one Gryffindor in the whole Slytherin table.

"They aren't the enemy Harry. They are people too, I suppose." Hermione said, not sounding altogether convinced herself. "When Dumbledore was talking to us, he seemed to imply that we would be like this for the rest of the year."

Ron and Harry groaned. The rest of the year? Harry slouched back into his chair. He was reminded of the plank of wood that had changed into a black chair. "Does anyone know what is up with our chairs being different colors? I mean, why not make them all blue or a pleasing color like that?"

Hermione looked stumped, as did Ron. "I have no idea," Ron said. "I got a green chair. Which sets off my red hair nicely, or so Luna Lovegood says." After hearing this Hermione laughed, prompting Ron to ask, "What?"

"Nothing," she answered. 

"You know, it's getting pretty late," Harry said. He wanted to go unpack his things; he wanted to get a good nights sleep for tomorrows classes. He also wanted to discover more about the new girl…

"Yeah, it is," Ron said agreeing. "I need to get my books ready." He got up from his chair and brushed his robes off.  Harry suddenly remembered he didn't have any books. Lupin said he'd take care of getting them, but he hadn't gone shopping. How was Harry going to go to class tomorrow without his books? Maybe he could share a book with Hermione and Ron…

"I wonder where the Ravenclaw dormitories are." Hermione said, also standing.

"Why?" Harry asked, still worried about his books. As he got up from his chair he almost tripped on one of its legs. 

"Well, I suppose that that's where I'm going to be sleeping now that I've more or less been sorted into that house."

Of course. Hermione was now a Ravenclaw. Ron was a Hufflepuff and Harry was a Slytherin. A small pit grew in Harry's stomach. Why did things have to change?

"Well, I suppose I'll have to find the Hufflepuff room, then," Ron said grumpily. "This is awful, I can't believe they're switching us. We have to do something!"

"We will, Ron. We just need a good nights sleep so we can digest it all. And besides, we aren't going to suddenly stop being friends because we're in different houses, right?"

"Of course not," Harry said. "Unless, that is, my new Slytherin housemates don't somehow posses my mind and force me to begin to hate you."

"If only…" Ron mumbled, which caused Hermione to give him a quick glance. Harry laughed.

"But really," Harry said. 'We are not going to let this change anything, right? We'll have to have secret meetings or something."

"Yes, I can imagine that, Harry. Secret Gryffindor meetings! We could have them in the Room of Requirement, I suppose." Hermione said jokingly.

Harry laughed, even though he was seriously considering it. He couldn't let Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat's ideas about unity ruin the only family he had left. 

"Harry, are there going to be more D.A. meetings this year, do you think? Are you up to it?" Ron asked, elbowing his best friend as Harry flicked his wand three times, making the three chairs disappear. Hermione looked impressed.

"I dunno," Harry said, stuffing his wand back in his robes. He was excited about his new chair-appearing skill. "I suppose we could. Maybe we should see who Dumbledore get for Defense Against the Dark Arts first. The only reason we started the D.A. was because of Umbridge's horrifying teaching of the subject. But it might be good to do it anyway," Harry said while exiting the bathroom with Hermione and Ron in toe.

"Yeah, you should consider it," Ron said. "Hmm…I think George told me the Hufflepuff dormitory was this way," he said pointing left. "Near the picture of the flashing fields."

"That's on my way to the Ravenclaw dormitory," Hermione said. "I heard about it during first year."

"Oh," Harry said disappointed. "The Slytherin dormitory is this way," he pointed his finger in the opposite direction towards the dungeon.

"Yeah," Hermione and Ron said. Harry remembered second year when they had transformed into Crabbe and Goyle and had gotten access to the Slytherin Common Room. He didn't want to go back there…

"Well, I guess this is a goodnight?" Ron said. Harry nodded, not wanting to have to watch Ron and Hermione walk away. "I guess we should get going then. Meet up in the Great Hall tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Harry said, and then promptly turned and walked away, towards the Slytherin dormitory. "Bye," he said quietly.

Harry walked away as quickly as he could. He was in no hurry to get to the Slytherin rooms by any means, he just felt the urge to be away from Hermione and Ron at the moment. He felt a lot right then as he often had during the summer. 

Harry made his way to the dungeons, where he knew the Slytherin dormitories were hidden. He had been this way with Ron before, they had tricked Malfoy into believing that they were Crabbe and Goyle. Unknowingly, Malfoy had led Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, his enemies, right into the heart of the Slytherin rooms. But that had been four years ago now, and Harry had absolutely no hope of being able to find the hidden wall entrance into the Common Room, and even if he did find it, he didn't know the password. 

Harry hadn't been in this part of the school much, and was started to feel hopeless and lost. All he could see ahead of him was thick stone walls and unwelcoming gloomy lights. Harry turned a corner, revealing more wall, and surprisingly an eruption of light. What had once been dark and dreary was now very bright and dreary. Harry walked toward the light, and was amazed to see it emitting from a single open doorway. He heard loud discussion and the snapping of fire within the room. _This must be the common room, _Harry thought. But why is it not being guarded? Why is it open? Harry thought that anyone could just walk into the room like this. It wasn't very safe…

Taking a slow breath, he walked cautiously into the room. Inside he saw the room was filled with students who were speaking amongst themselves in little groups. The light of the fire made shadows dance on their faces. 

"Harry," someone whispered from Harry's left. He quickly turned, surprised. It was Owen Cauldwell, the former Hufflepuff. "You just got here?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, yeah." He said, whispering back so he didn't draw too much attention to himself. "What's going on?"

"I have no clue. I just got here a few minutes ago myself. I came in and saw Pritchard and some others trying to close the door. Apparently they came and it was open, too. It just won't close. Now, everyone's here, just talking." 

Harry nodded, as he glanced around a little more closely and noticed that everyone was talking in groups with people from their own houses. No old house intermingled with another. _Dumbledore's plan isn't working too well, is it?_ Harry thought to himself a little satisfied. He looked back to Owen.

"Where are the boy's rooms, d'you know?"

"Oh sure," Owen said. "I asked an old Slytherin and he told me to bug off, so I had to go search for them myself. They're down that hall, there." He pointed to a hall on Harry's left. "And up the stairs. Are you going to turn in already Harry? I noticed there weren't any other Gryffindors put in here, but you can talk with us Hufflepuffs if you want."

Harry was grateful for Owen's offer, it was good to know that he didn't have to be alone here, but he declined. "Thanks, but it's been a long day. I think I need to sleep."

"Alright," Owen said, waving to Harry as he turned away and walked back to the group of Hufflepuffs who were talking together. 

While walking down the rather long hall that Owen like Owen had directed him to, Harry couldn't help but notice the large heads protruding from the wall. House-elf heads. Harry had only seen a display like this in Sirius' dark house. Apparently, it was an honor for a house-elf to have his head displayed upon a wall after death, but Harry got the chills while looking at them. He smiled as he thought of what Hermione would say if he told her Slytherins had a house-elf head shrine….

Harry turned up the staircase and walked up it slowly. Upon reaching the top he found that he was alone in the very middle of a large, circular room with a very high ceiling. The only light came from a large fire burning on the wall. Harry counted the beds: 5. Each bed's head was pushed up against the wall, with a nightstand on one side, and a large trunk at the foot. 

Harry walked passed the beds looking for one that had been assigned to him and had his suitcase and empty owl cage placed upon it. Harry started to wonder when Hedwig would come back, and he felt a little worried if she would be able to find him in this new place. There were no windows in this room, how would she be able to get it?

Harry's eyes fell upon a bed that had both a suitcase and a large owl cage that stood empty. While reaching out to open his suitcase, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that he was being watched. He paused, his hands midway to his un-opened chest and his gaze slid up his bed to where, to his surprise, a girl was sitting, lower body tucked securely under his blankets, her hands holding onto a large book, and her eyes staring straight at him. Or, staring straight into him rather. He recognized those eyes from somewhere, but her face was half hidden in shadow and unrecognizable.

"You must be Harry Potter," she said in a rich voice that seemed to wash through his body. The girl continued to look at him, her eyebrows raised slightly.

Harry heart was beating rapidly. He was still in shock that this girl was in his bed, sitting comfortably as if it were her own. He slowly gained control of himself and lowered his arms to his sides. "Yes, I am," he said. 

She nod her head faintly, "I thought so." She then stopped looking at him, and started to read the book.

Harry stood where he was confused. He did not understand why this girl was in his bed, and why she was not moving from it! _Girls aren't even supposed to be in here,_ he thought to himself. 

She looked up at him, once more. Her dark eyes were staring into him, and his body began to freeze. He needed to say something! Anything! Right before Harry was about to ask the girl who she was and what she was doing (which he figured were not the right questions to ask, but was all he could think of), the fire emitted a large blaze that lit the whole room. For the first time, Harry got to see the girls whole face and he recognized who it was. "You're Malfoy's friend," he said suddenly, his eyes widening a little. He then felt like pounding his head against the wall. His words sounded more like an accusation than a statement.

Harry saw the girl's eyes squint as she looked at him now. "Yes,' she said. "I am."

Harry felt awful about what he had just said. _But it's true_, his mind screamed in his defense, _She's a friend of Malfoy and therefore I shouldn't care how she feels._ But even Harry wouldn't buy his own lie. "Uh…sorry. That sounded rude." He said dumbly.

"It was rude," the girl retorted. She threw the blankets away from her legs, and turned to get out of the bed. 

"Oh, you don't have to get up," Harry rushed.

"It is your bed isn't it?" Harry nodded slowly, forgetting for a second whether it was or not. "Then I should leave." The girl hopped off of the bed, and walked around it towards where Harry was standing near his trunk.

Harry didn't want her to leave yet. He wanted to know her name. "What were you doing in here, anyway?" he asked. 

The girl stopped. She was less than two feet from him now, he could see the light from the fire framing her long hair. She smelled like a field of wildflowers – or so Harry guessed because he had never smelled a whole field of wildflowers before. His pulse started racing as she looked towards him. "I wanted to read, and this was the only quiet place I could find."

"What about your own bed?" Harry asked. He was acutely aware that he sounded rude while asking these questions, but he wanted to know the answers so badly that he didn't care.

She seemed to be getting annoyed by his questions, however, and her voice slowly hardened, while her eyes flared. "There was a large group of giggling girls whispering loudly in my room." she answered. Harry glanced down at the book she was holding and read the title: _Personal Demons and How to Attack. _He had seen that book on Lupin's bookshelf as well.

Harry paused for a moment, and the girl started to turn and walk away. "Wait," he asked, "how come I don't know you?"

The girl stopped midway to the staircase and turned back to face him. Her body was lost in gray shadows but Harry could still see her dark eyes staring at him. He expected her voice to be hard and un-encouraging, but instead it was soft again. It chilled him. "This is my first year at Hogwarts," she said.

"You're a first year?" he asked, very surprised.

"No," she said shaking her head and looking to the floor. When she brought her eyes up again, they seemed to be a little distant. "I'm a fifth year. I came to Hogwarts five years ago, but was called back home because my mom had gotten in an accident…she needed me there, you understand." Harry nodded, although he wasn't sure if he really understood. "I haven't been able to come back until this year – today." Her voice became weak, and she trailed off.

Harry nodded again, finding it hard to do much else. "Were you sorted when you came here first?" He asked. He had missed the sorting ceremony that year…due to the interference of a certain elf named Dobby…

"Oh, yes," the girl said, her voice sounding as if she had just been awoken from a strong memory. "I am a, er, was a Ravenclaw."

"Ah, clever and logical…" Harry said. He was very surprised that she had been chosen as a Ravenclaw. She and Malfoy had seemed so close, Harry had been sure that she would have been a Slytherin. _Or maybe she just has bad taste in friends._ Harry sensed that she was again, readying to leave, but he needed to know one more thing: "What's your name?"

She looked at Harry for what seemed an eternity and then nodded her head slowly and a smile crept onto her face. _And I didn't think she could get anymore beautiful, _Harry thought surprising himself greatly. Had he just thought of this girl – no – _young woman_ as beautiful? He was snapped out of his thoughts when she responded, her voice flowing through his ears. "Larine Avolare," she said, and then turned on the ball of her right foot and walked down the staircase, leaving Harry watching from behind, stupefied.


	7. Professor Shacklebot

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series.. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.

Chapter 7: Professor Shacklebot 

            Harry could not believe what had just taken place. He had just met Malfoy's new best friend, Larine Avolare, and she seemed almost _pleasant. _Harry couldn't imagine a friend of Malfoy's could come off so nicely – Malfoy's friends were usually very mean or very dumb _and_ very mean. But by the way Larine had looked at him, she didn't seem to be either of those….

Harry shook his head widely to get these new thoughts off of his mind. He couldn't start to think of someone who associated with Malfoy as being good. Knowing Malfoy, he had sent her up to the boys dormitories to seduce him…Harry shook his head again, realizing that no matter how hard he shook, Larine Avolare wasn't going to leave his mind easily. But what was it about her that interested him?

Harry jumped as he heard feet running up the stone stairs that lead to the room. He turned toward the stairwell opening and was surprised to see Terry Boot appear. "Oh, Potter," Terry said, noticing Harry, "Are you the only one up here?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry said, wondering if Terry had come looking for someone else who was up here before…A pang flew through Harry's body as he thought of Terry climbing the stairs looking to find Larine in the room. Is that why she had been up here: To meet someone?

"Good," Terry said, tearing Harry from his thoughts, "everyone is down in the Common Room. Snape wants to address all of us." Terry turned from Harry and began back down the steps.

"Oh," Harry said aloud to no one, "Of course that's why he was coming up here. To tell me about a meeting…" Harry felt a moment of – relief? – when Terry explained why he had come to the dormitories. _At least he wasn't here to meet Larine,_ Harry thought. But then he remembered that he had to go and listen to Snape, who was head of the old Slytherin house, speak and Harry suddenly wasn't sure if he should feel so relieved.

Taking one last quick glance around the room, Harry walked to the center of the room, then down the stairs. He passed by the House-elf head wall, and finally reached the Common Room which was filled to the brim with students. Harry's gaze swept over the crowd then landed in the center of the room, where a tall, greasy-looking man, now stood. His eyes jerked towards Harry as if he had immediately sensed his presence and the frown on his face deepened. _Wow, he can get uglier?_

Professor Snape took a deep breath then opened his mouth and began speaking, his voice just as oily as his hair "I, as most of you know, am Professor Snape. I am the Head of Slytherin House, but now I suppose," he looked at a small group of students Harry recognized as Hufflepuffs, "I am Head of this bunch of filth."

Harry shook his head slowly. He could not believe that he had been sorted into the House that Snape was heading. He truly had the worst luck. 

Snape, after pausing to look at a whimpering first year, began to speak again. "I did not support this change when I was told it might take place, nor do I now. I have only one thing to say to you all is that I will not be favoring any of you. You will not be getting any special treatment from me, as you might have gotten from your other Heads of Houses. I will do you no kindness just because you happen to sleep in my House. There will, however," he looked toward the corner of the room where Millicent Bullstrode and Graham Pritchard, as well as, Harry noticed, Larine Avolare (who was sandwiched comfortably between the two Slytherins), sat, "be rewards for those students who perform exceptionally." Snape stopped talking and started to push his way through the crowd towards the door to leave. A silent hush was on the room as he left. Once he was out, groups began talking again, whisperings of what Snape said began to travel around the room. 

Harry looked toward the corner where Larine Avolare was sitting and saw her chatting comfortably with a few former Slytherins. _I thought you were in Ravenclaw, _he accused her silently. He saw her eyes turn towards him, but didn't meet them. Instead, he turned on the ball of his foot, and walked past the House-elf heads to the stairwell that lead to his new, most probably uncomfortable, bed.

The next morning Harry awoke with a throbbing pain on his left foot. He had gone to bed earlier than he normally would have last night, but he had wanted so badly to escape from the torture he had been subjected to that day. While sitting up silently in his bed, Harry felt the cold of the looming Slytherin room wash over him. He could not believe where he was. 

His pained foot brought him back to the present and he stuck his hands under the heavy blankets of his new bed to try to massage the pain away. Harry was greatly surprised however as he touched his fingers to his ankle to find that these feet did not feel like his at all! What Harry felt under the blankets was bumpy, rough and slimy all at the same time – and Harry knew his feet, while maybe a little calloused, did not usually emit blobs of pus as these things attached to his legs seemed to be doing.

Harry's eyes widened in shock and horror while his stomach growled in disgust. He quickly snatched his hands out from under the blankets, grabbed a corner of his covers, and threw them to the side. A gasp mingled with the awful sound of repulsion escaped from his mouth as he looked down on his sheets. Attached to his left leg was indeed _his_ foot, but it was covered in green and orange bumps that had a foul smelling ooze sliding down the sides of the ball of his foot.

His left foot had been hexed while he had slept in the night!

Harry whipped his head around the room in hopes of finding the culprit. Nobody was there. Anger was boiling rapidly, and a strong rage started to fill Harry's brain. Who had done this?! Harry hadn't upset anybody! He did not understand why someone would attack him so unprovoked!

Harry clenched his teeth and slowly climbed out of bed. His right foot was fine, but his left was still oozing, and upon touching the floor started ejecting more gross slime. As he moved his weight on to the foot to begin walking toward his chest to change into clothes, it started discharging even more. Harry's knuckles were white with strain. He was sure somehow Malfoy was behind this. No one but an evil Slytherin like that git would pull something so low. 

Harry undressed then threw on some slacks and a shirt and stuffed his feet into the largest pair of shoes he owned. The bubbling foot was so large that he winced as he tied the laces of his shoes. Harry had his mind set on one thing: to discover who did this to him. And he certainly wasn't going to let that person get any pleasure out of watching Harry suffer. No, Harry decided, he would not let his anger or anguish show. To do so would only please the lowlife scum who had hexed his left foot…

So, with head held high and a slight limp on his left foot, Harry headed down the stairs and out of the empty Slytherin Common Room towards The Great Hall. He didn't wince once – he would not let anyone see the pain he was feeling – but with every step he took, he felt his left foot squish with the sounds of oozing bumps.

As Harry walked into The Great Hall the first change that he noticed was that there was none at all. Well, at least not in a certain sense. He knew Dumbledore had hoped to unite the student body by changing them around so suddenly, but Harry doubted that Dumbledore was stupid enough to think he would actually succeed. As Harry gazed around the hall he didn't see change, he saw memories. Everything was as it had always been: four tables lining the room, and the students of each house sitting where they all should be. The old Hufflepuffs were sitting at their old table, the Ravenclaws at their own table, and the Slytherins were right where they had always been. For a moment Harry wasn't sure whether everything that had happened yesterday was all a dream – a nightmare. Unfortunately, Harry knew that he was not so lucky.

Spotting the old Gryffindors sitting at their table, Harry limped their way. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Hermione and Ron talking quietly near the head of the table. "Good morning," he said cheerfully momentarily forgetting that this morning had not been good so far. "I see that everything's as it should be this morning."

Hermione smiled and nodded to Harry. "Well, I'm not sure the teachers would agree with you on that one, Harry. We aren't supposed to be sitting here, you know."

"No Greally," Ron said in mock surprise with his mouth full of toast. He quickly swallowed and then said clearly, "So, you're talking to us today then, Harry? The Slytherins haven't possessed you yet?"

"Possessed? No," Harry said sitting down on the bench. "But it seems they thought it would be funny to hex me last night while I slept."

"You slept?!" Ron said, completely missing Harry's point. "I didn't go to sleep for ages! The Hufflepuff room had a wild party last night. It was so great --"

"Ron, that's not what I meant," Harry said.

Hermione sat up a little straighter and said, "You were hexed Harry? What happened?"

Not wanting to draw an unnecessary attention to this incident, Harry leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice, "I woke up this morning and my left foot was covered in these gross, slimy bumps. They were spitting out this liquid and my foot in turning orange. It's seriously disgusting."

"Whoa!" Harry heard a voice say from behind him. Slowly turning around to see who had overheard what he had just told his closest friends, Harry saw young Colin Creevey. "Whoa," he repeated, "Your foot's been hexed? Man that's rotten luck."

"Colin," Ron said crossly, "What are you doing listening to our private conversation? Our, _private_ conversation?"

"Well, I was just walking by and overheard Harry talking about his gross warty foot-"

"Its not warty!" Harry corrected, "It's been hexed!"

"Alright then, I was just passing by when I heard Harry talking about his hexed warty foot. I thought that was pretty interesting considering the same thing happened to me just last month."

"It did?" Harry asked.

"Well, the same thing happened to me on my arm. My mum accidentally hexed it when she was aiming for her sister. She doesn't get along well with my aunt, you see. Anyways, she hit me with her hex and I got these gross warts – er, _bumps _– all over right arm. And a gross ooze was dripping all over her new carpet and so she started screaming for me to get off of it before the hex that _she _had placed on _me_ ruined it. That never made sense to me: she hexes me, her own innocent son, and then starts screaming for me to stop dripping on the rug."

"Crazy." Ron said sarcastically.

"How did your mother remove the hex?" Hermione asked. Harry felt a strong pang fly through his foot. It was getting harder for him to hide his pain.

"Oh, well that's easy, really. You just tap a wand on the affected area and say _Emoret."_

"That's all?" Harry asked hopefully. He pulled out his wand and lifted his foot to an empty space of bench next to him. Slowly unlacing his left shoe, he turned his head away as a draft of the smell of the slime reached his nose.

"Ah yes," Colin said, "That smell brings back some memories."

Harry stuck his wand into his shoe, tapped it against his hexed foot, and said the spell. Immediately he felt a sense of ease rush through his entire body as his foot shrank back to normal size and the bumps disappeared. 

"You'll have to clean that shoe out of course. The ooze doesn't disappear, it stays in there until you wash it."

Washing his shoe was the last thing on Harry's mind. He felt honest gratitude towards Colin for solving his problem and said so. 

"Oh, don't mention it, Harry," Colin replied. "I help when I can." He then turned and walked away.

"Wow," Ron commented, "I don't mean to be rude Harry, and I withheld comment a few seconds ago because I didn't want to offend you, but that smell was the worst thing my nose has ever inhaled." 

Harry concluded that Ron had never smelled his Aunt Petunia's cooking. He smiled and nodded, while grabbing some food from the table and placing it on his plate. "You're pretty lucky, then," he said.

"I suppose so," Ron replied. He picked up his glass, which was filled with a thick red liquid and tipped his head back so it could flow down his throat. Harry watched as Ron put the glass down and wiped the remnants of the drink on his sleeve. He knew Mrs. Weasley would be furious. "What?" Ron asked him, noticing Harry's stare.

"Nothing." Harry said shaking his head. Ron would always be Ron.

"Hey, so really Harry," Ron started, "how was your night with the Slytherins."

"They aren't _all_ Slytherins, Ron," Hermione interjected. "Only a few are Slytherins. The rest are all sleeping in the Slytherin dorms now, but that doesn't make them Slytherins."

"Oh, _of course not_," Ron said. "Please forgive me if I mislead you, Harry. That was not my intention." Ron smiled foolishly. 

Harry noticed that Ron was enjoying this. "No need to apologize," he said. "I realize that some people are just too stupid to realize what they're saying sometim- HEY!" Harry's sentence was interrupted when Ron threw a large wad of orange peelings at him. The peels hit his square on the chin. "That was uncalled for!" He said trying to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, come on, Harry. Really, just tell me what happened last night! We're dying to know!"

"We're?" Hermione asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. You and I. We're both dying to know."

"I'm hardly dying to kn-"

"Oh, shut up Hermione. Harry, what happened?"

Harry paused a moment. What should he tell them? Normally, he would have told them every detail: from his first moments of arrival to the last thing he thought of before he dozed off to sleep. But right now, Harry wasn't sure if they needed to know all of that stuff – or if he wanted to tell them at all. There were a few things (namely, a girl named Larine) that he didn't want them to know about. But, these were his best friends! They deserved to know everything, didn't they? 

"Oh, well, nothing really happened. I went to the Slytherin room and everyone was talking. We got a talk from Snape and I went to bed. Nothing of interest." Harry felt his stomach twitch from his words. He didn't like lying to Ron and Hermione.

"A talk from Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm? Oh yes," Harry said. "He just told us that he wasn't going to favor any of us and that he hated all of us who weren't Slytherins in the first place. Then he left."

"It must've been awful." Ron said with a look on horror on his face. 

"Not really," Harry said. He was feeling rather distracted right now. He didn't like lying.

"Is that all that happened, Harry?" Hermione asked. She looked at Harry carefully. Leave it to Hermione to see through Harry's charade.

"Yeah, Hermione." Harry said, hoping to sound firm and final. He was afraid that his words came out weak and worried, however, and was just about to speak again when someone from a nearby table shouted, "LOOK!"

Suddenly, heads all around Harry started looking towards the ceiling of The Great Hall. Harry lifted his own head towards the roof, dreading to see what was causing so much attention, and was surprised to see hundreds of small white papers pouring down from above.

"Ah, those must be the schedules," Hermione said satisfied. "I was wondering how they were going to distribute them this year." Harry shot Hermione a strained look. "Well, didn't you two wonder too?"

"No, Hermione," Ron said. The papers floated slowly down to the tables. One by one students put their hands in the air and a single sheet of paper flew into their grasp. Harry lifted his hand up and a nearby parchment darted around other floating papers and glided into Harry's hand. He slowly lowered his arm, and looked at the paper. "Oohs and Aahs" filled the hall as each student grabbed their schedule. 

Harry looked over his schedule for the next year: Four NEWT classes. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Harry closed his eyes tightly at the thought of another Potions class. The last thing he wanted was a class with Snape much less a _hard_ class with Snape. He was very sure that this year would be filled with stress that he wasn't sure he could handle.

"What'd you get?" Ron asked Harry loudly. He waved his small paper in the air towards Harry excitedly. "I'm in three NEWT classes: Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures. I told Professor Flitwick yesterday that I didn't want to be in the Charms NEWT class even thought I passed the exams, you kno-"

"YOU DID WHAT?" Hermione exclaimed. "You turned down the chance to be in a NEWT class? Why, Ron? Did you tell your mother?" Ron's face suddenly went white. "You didn't tell her? Well, maybe I will then-"

"No, Hermione. I told my dad. He said it was okay. Really. I just wanted to concentrate more on History of Magic. That's my other NEWT class."

"What?" Hermione asked stupidly. Harry was just as shocked as she was. Ron got an OWL in History of Magic? That seemed impossible.

Ron looked towards his shoes and a slight blush crept to his cheeks. "Yeah, I did pretty well in History of Magic, I guess. My mum was really proud."

Harry was the first to recover from the shock. "Wow, Ron. That's wonderful. I just got an A in History of Magic."

Hermione, still wide eyed, nodded. She couldn't seem to say anything. 

Ron mumbled a small "thanks," and then hurried to change the subject. "So, Harry, what are your classes?"

Harry looked down at his small paper again, "I'm in NEWT Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions. Uh, then I've got…nothing." He looked over his schedule again. Nothing? How could he have nothing?

"Nothing?" Ron said, his words echoing Harry's thoughts. "What do you mean?"

"Uh…" Harry said. He was only scheduled for four classes! "That's not normal is it?"

"Not at all," Hermione said, holding her hand out towards Harry. "Let me see your schedule." Harry handed her the slip of paper. This was odd indeed. He was sure he wasn't reading the schedule wrong, so why was he only scheduled for four classes? With a wisp of excitement, Harry realized that only having those classes left his time almost half empty. Quickly, Harry imagined flying on his broom while all other students were inside learning. 

"Harry!" Ron said, he was leaning over Hermione's shoulder, reading Harry's schedule. "You really only have those five classes on there! Man, that's lucky!"

Harry smiled and looked at Hermione. Surely, she would say something like _'Well, you're going to have to tell Dumbledore,_' and spoil his fun. Instead, she just lifted her head from looking at the paper and handed it back to Harry. "What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked. "What is wrong with it?"

"I think it's pretty obvious what's wrong with it," she said. "You only have five classes. But I'm not going to say anything. I won't spoil your fun, although it would be the _right_ thing to do." She got up from the table and walked away. "I'll see you Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry. We have it in thirty minutes," she said over her shoulder. He watched her walk off, then turned to Ron who was looking at him excitedly.

"We've destroyed her, Harry!" He said with a smile.

"No, I think it was you who destroyed her," Harry said jokingly. He didn't fail to notice, however, how, for the second time that morning, Ron looked toward the floor and blushed. 

Harry ran down the hall that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. He was late getting to class, which was no fault of his. It wasn't his fault that someone thought it would be funny to hide all of his robes! It wasn't his fault that someone had rigged the showers to only spray a chunky liquid! Harry had run around his dormitory for nearly 15 minutes trying to find his wand to get the gross globs out of his hair. Once finally manage to find his robes wadded up in one of his shoes, he threw it on and had run to class. 

Harry turned down one hall after another on his way to class. HE was just about to throw open the Defense Against the Dark Arts room when he was stopped by a familiar voice. 

"Harry." It was Hermione. She was standing against a far wall, with her arms crossed against her chest. "Where have you been?"

"Hermione! Why aren't you in class?" Harry asked a little rushed. It wasn't like Hermione to be out of class. 

"I was. However, when you never showed up, Professor Shacklebot sent me up here to find you. He was right to assume that you were just late. Late and irresponsible. I was very worried about what-"

"Wait!" Harry stopped Hermione's rambling suddenly. "What'd you say?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Professor Shacklebot," she said. "Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry was shocked. "Professor Shacklebot?" He repeated. He couldn't believe it! Kingsley Shacklebot was a secret member of the Order of the Phoenix. He was also an Auror, the very thing that Harry aspired to be. Harry remembered that Shacklebot had been in charge of finding Sirius, who had been falsely accused of murder. It occurred to Harry that with Sirius gone, Shacklebot had probably been moved to another case. Why, then, was he now teaching at Hogwarts?

"Yep, Shacklebot. I just found out as well. It was quite the surprise. We're meeting outside for the first lesson today, Harry," Hermione said pointing him back down towards the hall he had just come from. Harry followed her as she navigated her way down the corridors. "He seems very much at home. He has that special teacher-type quality, you know?"

He didn't. "Um…yeah."

"I am quite excited to get started. After last year's awful mess with this class, it should be a great improvement. Maybe he'll even be able to challenge Lupin as "Best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Hermione said glancing sideways at Harry with a smile at the corners of her mouth.

"Maybe," Harry mumbled back. 

"There he is," Hermione said, shielding her eyes from the bright sun as she and Harry stepped out from the castle into the bright daylight. 

Harry looked over the large grounds and quickly spotted what must be his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He and Hermione quickly walked towards the large group of people and he immediately spotted his newest professor in the crowd.

Professor Shacklebot was a tall black man with a closely shaven head. He smiled down at Harry and Hermione. "I see you've found our lost classmate," he said in his deep voice. 

"Sorry about being late, Professor," Harry said to Shacklebot. A wave of happiness rolled over him and he felt for the first time that this might be a good year. 

"I can let it pass this first time, Mr. Potter," the tall man said with a wink. He ushered Harry and Hermione to join the rest of the class, which was filled by the smartest students in Harry's year. They all welcomed Harry, undoubtedly remembering how good he was at this subject. Harry felt very much at home.

            Professor Shacklebot cleared his throat and looked over the students who filed around him. "Good morning students, I am Professor Shackle your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I've told that I am just the latest in a long line of teachers for this subject - some good," Harry remembered Lupin, "and some, well to be blunt, bad." Many of the students grouped together laughed a little, Harry knew they were undoubtedly remembering every other Defense Against the Dark they had ever had. "This is the NEWT level course, which will prove to be a little more challenging, as well as, I hope, a little more fun."

            "Anything would have to be more fun than last year," a (former) Ravenclaw said dryly, earning many nods and smiles. 

Professor Shacklebot nodded his head as well. "Ah, but don't expect this class to be all fun and games. Learning to protect yourself against dark magics isn't all within the swish of your wand – it goes much deeper than that. Very often," the Professor continued, "students enter this advanced level of the Defense courses, and can't learn a thing. There is a talent that is necessary to fully shield one's self against the dark arts that only few are born with – it simply can't be taught." 

Harry noticed that there were many nervous faces within the crowd of students now. He wasn't as nervous as he thought he should be, however. Shacklebot awakened an urge to prove himself, more than it did an urge to run. He looked back toward his new professor who was smiling down at his new students.

"But let's not worry about that today," he said, "right now I have a challenge for you all. Within the Quidditch Field," he lifted a finger towards the vast field of green grass framed by stands and vertical poles, "I have placed 13 dingits." Professor Shacklebot slowly shook his head as numerous hands flew into the air, to signal that he wasn't going to answer questions. "No, no, I'm not explaining. I know that some of you know what dingits are, and I trust that you will help your fellow classmates, who seem to be in the dark, discover it themselves. Now, each of you, along with a partner of your choosing, will need to find and map all 13 dingits without…incurring their wrath. You may use a single piece of parchment and your wand. That is all. You have the rest of class to complete this trial. Begin." Professor Shacklebot finished his short instructions and clapped his hands together releasing his students from their silence.

 Immediately, students turned toward each other, finding partners, and ran off towards the Quidditch Field. Harry looked at Hermione, "Partner?"

"Absolutely," she said, grabbed his elbow, and pushed him toward the large green field. "It's my guess that you have absolutely no idea what a dingit is," she said.

"Well….no. But it's my luck, I assume, that you know exactly what it is," Harry said shortly. He wasn't Hermione's friend just because she was smart, but that certainly was a plus.

"Of course I do," Hermione replied. "Dingits are small ball-shaped figures that are placed in the ground. They act as a sort-of defense advice. When a person who doesn't know to lookout for them steps on one they are immediately sprayed by a temporary-sicking poison."

"What?!" Harry asked. "We might get sprayed with a temporary poison?"

"Well, that's how the real dingits work. I would guess that Professor Shacklebot would fill the dingits with something a little more…acceptable. Now, to find the dingits you have to concentrate incredibly hard on this spell." Hermione, still walking briskly toward the field, pulled her wand out of her robes and swished it lightly. "_Dingit,_" she said.

"Wow, that was original," Harry said dryly. This didn't sound too hard.

"The spell isn't the hard part. It's the supreme concentration required that gets most wizards. It's very difficult – I'm looking forward to it."

As it turned out, Hermione couldn't have been more right. Upon reaching the Quidditch field and saying the enchantment, Harry felt and saw nothing different.

"What's supposed to happen Hermione?" He asked. 

"My understanding is that if our spell works correctly a shining light will hover over the hidden dingit. After we see a light we should probably mark it on a paper so we can remember to avoid that spot while looking for the rest of the dingits. Thirteen dingits he said he hid? Of course, we have to find one first."

"Right," Harry said. He looked around the large field and saw everyone else looked just as confused as he did. Many people were gathered into large groups stepping very lightly over the green grass, trying to avoid any undiscovered dingits.

"Concentrate," Hermione reminded him.

"Right," Harry repeated. "_Dingit_," he said, focusing all of his energy on finding the dingits. Immediately a faint light illuminated about five yards in front of Harry. He jumped back suddenly, surprised. "I've got one!" 

"You have? Well, where is it?" Hermione asked frantically. 

"It's right there!" Harry screamed pointing in front of him. "Right there!"

"Where Harry? Oh, dear, will you stop pointing at nothing? Just mark it on this map," she held out the piece of paper she had hidden in her robe. On it was a small, quickly drawn sketch of the Quidditch Field. Harry placed a small star in what he guessed was around the general area where he saw the light. He handed the paper back to Hermione.

"That close? Do you see anymore, Harry?"

"No. Why can't I see them all?" He asked.

"I guess there aren't anymore around here, let's wander a little over this way," Hermione pulled Harry to the left, carefully avoiding the place Harry had marked on the map.

It took Harry and Hermione nearly thirty minutes to fine 9 more dingits. They had to constantly keep moving around the large green field until one of them spotted another illuminated hovering light. They had managed to successfully avoid stepping on a dingit and making it explode, but there had been a few close calls. 

Elisa Perkins, a fellow sixth year, hadn't been so lucky. About twenty minutes into the search she accidentally stepped on a hidden piece and a thick liquid had squirt all over her. Professor Shacklebot had calmly walked over and escorted her off the field. Harry heard him whisper quietly as he and Elise walked past, "It's okay, the stinging will stop soon." Harry had gotten the shivers then.

"Two more," Hermione said to herself. Harry was snatched back to the present, and nodded calmly toward Hermione. Harry always enjoyed watching her when she felt she was being faced with a challenge. Hermione liked to win games of the mind, and games that tested her skill. 

"Have we looked over there?" He asked nodding to his left.

"Yes, we just looked there Harry! Pay attention!" Hermione said back, her stress momentarily over boiling.

Harry laughed, which, apparent by the look on her face, didn't please Hermione much. "Oh, calm down," he said. Then he lifted his wand and pointed it straight in front of him, where he was sure they hadn't checked before. "_Dingit!"_ Two lights illuminated right in front of Harry. The two remaining hidden dingits were so close to Harry, and to each other, that if he or Hermione had taken one step forward they would be the ones escorted off of the field with stinging skin. "Hey, Hermione -," Harry began but was interrupted by a fowl voice from behind him.

"Potter," came Draco's sneering call, "I see you and your girlfriend haven't been able to find all 12 yet. Are you slacking off? You're usually done before anyone else has even begun." Draco slowly walked from behind Harry to in front him, just behind the dingits. The dingits were sandwiched between Harry and Draco. Then, when Harry saw who was walking right beside Draco, his stomach flipped.

Larine.

"Ah," Draco said looking at Harry's surprised expression, "I have been so rude. Larine," he said turning to the girl, "this is-"

"Harry Potter," Larine finished. Her dark eyes were shining, and an evil smirk was drawn across her face. "We've had the pleasure of meeting."

"Have you?" Draco asked. "I can't imagine it was a _pleasure_. How disappointed were you in our Mr. Potter?"

Larine inhaled and then sighed, "I had always imagined him to be…well, a little less scrawny for one thing."

"And who are you?" Hermione asked breaking in. Harry felt numb. He watched as Draco begun to move toward Hermione, about to step on one of the hidden dingits. 

_One more step,_ Harry thought satisfyingly. But right before Draco would have made his last move, a hand whipped out and pulled him backwards, saving Draco. Harry looked toward the owner of the hand, and discovered it to be Larine Avolare. Her eyes were wide, and pointed towards the ground, exactly where the hidden dingit was. Harry saw Draco look at Larine questioningly. _Does she know the dingits are there?_

Recovering quickly, Draco looked toward Hermione and answered her question calmly, "This is Larine Avolare."

"Larine Avolare?" Hermione said questioningly. "Are you new?"

            "Well, obviously," Draco said, answering for Larine. 

An evil smile once again highlighted Larine's face. "This is my first year at Hogwarts, yes," she answered coldly. Harry shivered – Larine hadn't been this mean last night when he had met her. It was almost as if there were two different Larines.

 Hermione, however, was not daunted. "Well where have you been for the last five?" 

"That is none of your business," Draco said smiling as if he knew something of great importance that Harry and Hermione didn't. He began to walk closer and said, "But if you hear the rumors--. HOLY OWLS!" Draco screamed as he walked straight onto a hidden dingit and a green liquid sprayed all over him. Hermione and Harry jumped back, surprise hitting them first, and then an extreme urge to laugh. "A DINGIT!" Draco yelled. "LARINE! OW, IT HURTS!" Draco began jumping up and down, while turning around in circles. Harry was fighting the urge to laugh, but it was about to get the best of him. Larine had run to Draco was trying to help him.

"If you just calm down for a second, I can see what this is, and maybe I can remove it," she was saying calmly, looking very distressed. 

"Larine! Larine! Get away from him," Harry looked over and saw Professor Shacklebot running toward the twitching Malfoy. "Step away, please," he said slowing to a halt upon reaching the group. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll need you to come with me. The nurse can remove this mess." Malfoy begrudgingly began to walk back towards the castle with Shacklebot, holding his head high, trying to preserve some dignity. "No, no, Larine you'll need to stay here and try to finish the assignment," Professor Shacklebot said when Larine began to walk away with Malfoy.

"But Draco was my partner, Professor" she said.

"I know, Larine, but I can only take the students who have the salgoo on them to the nurse. You'll need to stay down here and wait for Mr. Malfoy. He'll be fine."

"Professor-," Larine began but was interrupted by the Professor.

"No, Larine. You don't have salgoo on you, so you can not come." Harry thought that it would be best for Larine to stop arguing with Professor Shacklebot, it was obvious that he was beginning to get annoyed. 

Slowly Larine tightened her jaw, and turned around, walking straight toward Harry. From all of their various places on the field, the class was watching Larine now. She continued to walk toward Harry until she stopped right in front of him, her dark gaze stopping Harry's breath. She lifted her right foot and brought it straight down, stomping on the small patch of grass that separated her body from Harry's. Immediately the same green liquid that covered Malfoy jumped out of the ground and landed all over Larine's body. 

Harry had completely forgotten about the second dingit that he had found. But Larine hadn't. And Harry was completely sure that indeed, she had known that it had existed the whole time, and that it was not a simple coincidence that she had saved Malfoy from stepping on a dingit the first time. 

Larine smiled at Harry, then turned and walked back to Professor Shacklebot and Malfoy (who was still twitching). She didn't give it away, but Harry was sure that every part of her body was now screaming in pain. Just like his was.

"Professor, it looks like I'm going to need to see the nurse now," was all Larine said. 

Professor Shacklebot looked very surprised at what his new student had just done, but then his eyes changed and (much to Harry's surprise) softened. He nodded and led the two students away.

Once they were gone, the whole class let out a single, collective breath. 

Hermione was the first to speak. "Well, we've found all of the dingits.


End file.
